Once Upon a Christmas (20 page)

Brad walked in, followed by the key-wielding guard.

“Somebody page me?” he asked with a grin.

Holly could have cried with relief. Reaching their cell,
Brad put his fingers through the bars to clasp her hand. He looked like freshly
shaved and showered heaven, right down to the pressed crease in his casual
cotton pants. Brad wouldn’t have let her down. He’d never have gotten her
locked into jail.

“Oh, Brad! Thank God you’re here.” She tossed back
a meaningful glance at Sam’s stony face. “It’s been awful.”

“What the hell is he doing here?” Sam asked.

“He’s here to get me out of this godforsaken place. I
paged him. Because I
knew
he’d come.”

The guard unlocked their cell and swung the barred door
open.

Brad rushed in and grabbed her hands. “Are you all
right?”

“I’ll be fine,” Holly answered. “Once I’m out
of this place.”
And once I get over Sam.

“I already called David and Clarissa to bail us out,”
Sam gritted out through clenched teeth. “They’ll be here any minute.”

Holly linked arms with her rescuer, then glanced at Sam. “How
was I supposed to know you had a plan to get us out of here? It’s not as if you’ve
ever planned anything before.”

His eyes turned gray with pain. “You’re right. If I
had, I’d have planned not to fall in love with you.”

He held her gaze, daring her to look away first. Daring her
to say he didn’t really love her.

Holly couldn’t do it.

“Goodbye, Sam,” she whispered, her throat thick
with unshed tears. “I’m sorry things had to end this way.”

Chapter Ten

Watching Holly walk away on another man’s arm was one of the
hardest things Sam had ever had to do. He could only stand, frozen, as she and
Brad stepped out of the jail cell and walked together down the corridor. The
guard slammed the door shut, locking him in again.

Without a backward glance, Holly was gone.

She’d made her choice. Brad.

He should have known better. He should have known a woman
like Holly wouldn’t really change. She’d told him all along, hadn’t she?
I’m
trying to work things out with Brad. I haven’t given up on him yet.

Of course, not ten minutes later she’d been kissing Sam,
responding to him as though they were the hottest of lovers, reunited. But what
did that prove? Not a damn thing. Only that they were two healthy,
sexually-aware adults who knew a great kiss when they felt one.

Sam lay on his back on the narrow cot, one arm thrown over
his eyes. He closed them, trying to blot out Holly’s image. He shouldn’t still
want a woman who’d just dumped him. He still wanted Holly. He was an idiot.

The door at the end of the corridor opened again. Sam sat
up. Clarissa hurried inside, followed closely by David. She reached his cell
and wrapped her fingers around the bars.

“Geez, Sam. It’s been years since I’ve seen you like
this.”

Weakly, Sam grinned. He gathered up his jacket and stuffed
his black tie in the pocket. “I’ll bet I wasn’t wearing a tuxedo last
time.”

“You look very nice.” His cousin wasn’t smiling. “Unlock
this,” she snapped to the guard.

Her tone suggested horrible consequences if the portly guard
didn’t snap to it. He must have recognized the threat, because he did. Then he
backed out of Clarissa’s way.

“Uh, you’re free to go, mister,” he mumbled.

Sam headed down the corridor with Clarissa and David, then
picked up his personal things in the jail’s office. Outside, the bone-jarring
Sunday morning sunlight did nothing to warm him.

The instant the doors of the county jail closed behind them,
Clarissa grabbed his arm.

“What was Holly doing with Brad?” she asked,
frowning. “We ran into them in the parking lot, but he was hustling her
into that gaudy red car of his. We didn’t have a chance to talk. What’s going
on, Sam?”

“Simple. She picked him.” Sam shielded his eyes
against the sunlight and scanned the parking lot. “Where did you park?”

“Over there.” David pointed to their blue
Wagoneer, parked at the edge of the lot in the meager shade of a Paloverde
tree.

Sam slung his tuxedo jacket over his shoulder and headed in
that direction. “Would you mind driving me back to the Cheshire hotel? I
had to leave my truck in the parking lot and ride over here with Saguaro Vista’s
finest.”

“Sure.” David unlocked the driver’s-side door,
then reached in and unlocked the back door directly behind it.

Sam opened the door and threw in his jacket. He was about to
follow it onto the back seat when Clarissa grabbed him again. Somehow, she’d
wedged her body into the space between the back seat, Sam, and the opened door.
She scowled at him like a bulldog having a bad day.

“‘She picked him.’ Is that all you’re going to say?”

Sam thought about it. “Yeah.”

“Come on, honey.” David glanced over his shoulder
at his wife. “Get in. You can badger Sam about his love life on the way to
the hotel.”

“Hmmph.”

Clarissa got in and proceeded to do just that. While David
steered the Wagoneer through town, passing gaily-decorated Christmas displays
and lots selling discounted fir trees, she tossed questions at Sam.

“Why was Holly leaving with Brad? Why didn’t she just
wait for us?” She jabbed her husband. “And how can the two of you act
like nothing just happened?” Clarissa paused, fixing them both with a
stern look. “Is this a guy thing?”

Sam sighed. “Which question do you want answered first?”

She swiveled in the front seat, straining her shoulder
safety belt to the limit so she could glare at him. “I’m serious. This is
a serious thing.”

“It’s an over-with thing.”

Morosely, Sam gazed out his window. The glittery holiday
displays only made him feel worse. Christmas was supposed to be a time to spend
with the people you loved. Unfortunately, the woman
he
most wanted to be
with had chosen another man to make merry with.

He turned back to Clarissa. “Holly didn’t wait for you
because she didn’t know you were coming to bail us out. I didn’t tell her. I
thought she knew I’d get us out of jail, for Chrissakes! I’m not a total
screw-up.”

He fisted his hand against his knee. He wasn’t a screw-up at
all, not anymore. A long time ago Sam had woken up to the fact that he’d been
wasting his life away. Wasting his potential in a haze of parties, women, and
the search for a good time. So he’d screwed his head on straighter and found
something better.

He was far from perfect, but Sam liked to think he helped
most of his students. Once in a while he even came across someone like himself,
someone drifting along. Sometimes he gave them a nudge toward bigger goals for
themselves, and saw them realize they could do more than they’d thought.
Someone like Jiggly Jillian Hall.

“You’re not a screw-up at all,” Clarissa
protested. “You’re a respected college professor.”

“Yeah,” David chimed in, “your wild days are
behind you, buddy…with the obvious exception of today.” He grinned into
the rear view mirror. “You want to tell us what you were doing naked, with
Holly, in the middle of the pool at that ritzy hotel?”

“No,” Sam said flatly. The memory of being with
Holly, so close together, hurt too much to think about. He wouldn’t do it.

“I really thought Holly would buckle long before this.”
Clarissa shook her head. “With Brad out of the picture—and you right there
in her house—I thought you were a shoo-in. You seemed like just what Holly
needed.”

“Honey,” David said as he turned into the hotel’s
curved drive, “why do I smell a matchmaking rat in all this? Hmmm?”

Clarissa lifted her chin and gave him a sly smile. “It
didn’t hurt us any to get thrown together by somebody who cared.” She
winked at Sam.

He smiled. He was the one who had introduced the two of
them—his friend from college, David, and his loudmouthed cousin, Clarissa. A
perfect match. Maybe some kind of matchmaking genes ran in the family.

After giving David directions to the correct area of the
parking lot, Sam grabbed his tuxedo jacket. He was seriously considering burning
the damn thing. It had brought him nothing but trouble. Since he’d put it on,
he and Holly had been kicked out of the formal wear shop
and
arrested.
For someone like Holly, that was probably too much social censure to swallow
all at once.

“It doesn’t matter,” he told Clarissa. “Holly
got Brad. I hope she’s happy with him.”

“No, you don’t. You hope they’re miserable together and
she comes back to you. Admit it.”

So what if he did? It wasn’t going to happen.

“They belong together. They’re perfectly well-suited
for one another.”

“Oh, geez. Now Holly’s got you believing that junk,
too? David, she’s brainwashed him. We’ve got to do something.”

Her husband—and Sam—only stared blandly at the parking lot.

Clarissa smacked the back of the seat with her hand, looking
exasperated. “Hello? Sam? You don’t fall in love with somebody just
because you share shoe sizes and an interest in Keogh accounts.”

David pulled up to the left of Sam’s truck. His Wagoneer
swayed, then stopped.

Sam opened his door. “You’re preaching to the
converted,” he told Clarissa. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Wait a minute!”

His cousin jumped out of the Wagoneer right behind him. She
followed Sam to his truck and leaned against the driver’s-side door, arms
crossed.

“You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam caught hold of her upper arms,
lifted her a few inches above the blacktop, and set her down out of his way. He
unlocked his truck door.

“That’s not fair! I’m only here because I care about
you, and you know it.”

He cracked open his door, then faced her. “I’m tired,”
he said gently. “I’m dead tired and a little pissed-off and a lot sick of
talking about this. It feels as if my heart got stuck in a vise and twisted
like hell. So cut me a little slack, okay? We can talk about this when I get
back.”

Clarissa came closer and wrapped her arms around his middle.
Contritely, she laid her head against his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry
things worked out like this, and—”

Her head rose sharply and she released him. “And did
you just say we’ll talk about it when you get back? Back from where? Where are
you going?”

“I’ve got to get away.”

Sam climbed in his truck. Inside, it still smelled like
Holly’s flowery perfume. Her lipstick tube was still tucked in the
passenger-side visor where she’d left it before the party. He gripped the
steering wheel tighter. There was no way in hell he was going back to her house
and watch her rebuild things with Brad.

Goodbye, Sam. I’m sorry things had to end this way.

He was sorry, too. Sorry things had ever begun, only to turn
sour at the end. He shoved his keys into the ignition and started his truck.
The sooner he left, the better.

“Sam, where are you going?”

“Back to Tucson. I’ve got to be there anyway—my ethics
hearing is scheduled later this week. Remember Malcolm’s charges about changing
Jilly’s grade?”

Clarissa nodded. “Malcolm’s a worm. You can tell him
that for me when you see him.” She grinned, looking cheered by the
thought.

“After that, I don’t know.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe
I’ll try to pick up some tutoring work. Take my mind off things.”

“I don’t think you should go,” Clarissa said
unhappily.

“I can’t stay here.” He pulled the truck door
closed and rolled down the window instead. He drummed his fingers on the edge
of it, needing to be gone. Needing to forget.

She sighed. “I know. What should I tell Holly?”

His heart twisted again. “Tell her… Tell her if she
decides to take a chance, I’ll be waiting. Tell her love at first sight is
real.” He paused. “Tell her I still believe that fortune cookie was
right.”

“Huh?” Clarissa looked puzzled.

“She’ll know what it means.” Sam put his truck in
gear.

“Wait. You want me to tell her about a fortune cookie?”

He gazed sadly at her. Why was he still hoping?

“On second thought, just tell her I said goodbye.”

He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway.
Pretty soon, Sam was making good time toward Tucson—the direction exactly
opposite of the one he really wanted to go.

Just after sunset, Holly arrived home in Brad’s BMW. As she
and Brad pulled in her driveway, she peered at the darkened windows of her
house and knew things really were finished between her and Sam. He wasn’t
there.

Her heart sank. Part of her had been hoping, admittedly
without reason, that Sam would be waiting for her. Beside her, Brad cut the BMW’s
engine and stretched his arm across the back of her seat, looking satisfied
with himself.

“I’m certainly glad I didn’t hire an outside consultant
to evaluate that accounting software for me. It would have cost me a bundle.”

It was as close as Brad would come to a thank you. Somehow,
he’d persuaded her to look over his new software package for him after all. She’d
spent the whole afternoon in his office setting up portions of it for him.

“I’m glad I could help,” she said.

She shifted uncomfortably on the car’s leather seat, feeling
awkward and overdressed in the conservative beige dress and matching jacket
Brad had bought for her earlier. The clothes had been waiting in the car when
they’d left the jail. He’d insisted on taking her to his new, luxurious
condominium to shower and change before heading to his office.

Brad’s condominium had all the warmth of a modern-art
museum—all slick surfaces and cold, hard edges. Even the landscaping outside
was cold, a mixture of granite boulders accented with knifelike desert agave.
Holly hadn’t wanted to admit how well its austerity suited him.