Page 14 of Sugarplum

Chapter 9

Holt walked out. I closed my eyes for a second to remember what it felt like to have his hand between my legs. Heavenly. It felt heavenly as if he'd dropped out of some fantasy world where the men were not only beautiful but they knew exactly how to touch a woman.

I picked up my suitcase and now regretted my choice of weekend clothes. Although, in my defense, I thought I was going to be spending most of my time on the slopes with only the occasional stop in at the lodge restaurant. I hadn't even considered packing something pretty. Even if I didn't have much pretty in my closet, I definitely had clothes that were sexier than snow pants and thick wool sweaters.

I walked over to the mahogany dresser in the corner of the room. There was a note sitting under the ornate clock. The top of the notepaper had the Silk Stocking Inn logo printed in pink and a long vine of pink roses lined the paper. The handwriting looked elegant and old-fashioned.

"Jenny, I've put a dress and some shoes in the closet. Thought you might like to dress up for dinner. Hope you enjoyed your bath. Coco."

A blush warmed my cheeks when it occurred to me she might have brought the note in while I was bathing. How was I going to face her?

I considered not going down to dinner for all of a second when an incredible aroma made its way up the staircase and beneath the door to my room. I was extra hungry, but it would have been mouthwatering even if I'd just finished a six course meal. I brushed off my earlier worries about facing Coco. After all, I'd leave here right after my car was fixed, and this place would just be a pleasant but distant memory.

I pulled the dress over my head, feeling doubtful that it would fit or look right. But I was wrong. I stared at myself in the full length mirror. Suddenly, I understood all the hype about owning a little black dress. It fit snuggly over every curve as if the seamstress had sewn it right on me. It was simple yet spectacular. It wasn't something I'd ever consider buying myself, but for the life of me, I couldn't understand why. It had a lacy collar that came up high around my neck, like a choker, but it was sleeveless and cut in sharply at the shoulders. My tattoos were on full display, which worked perfectly with the black dress.

The shoes Coco had left behind were taller than my usual footwear. I slid them on, buckled the ankle straps and took a few practice runs around the room before stepping into the hallway. I passed by the mirror a few times to admire the whole look and then realized that I'd been so enamored with the dress, I'd forgotten my hair. I shuffled on the high heels to my suitcase and pulled out a brush.

The steam from the bath had flattened my hair as if I'd taken a long walk on a foggy day. I had no choice but to sweep it up in a long ponytail. It was a pretty funky hairstyle to go with a little black dress but then so were all the tattoos on my arms.

I stopped once more in the mirror and took a look. It all worked.

Footsteps in the hallway caused me to stop behind my door for a moment to catch my breath. I hadn't been this excited about a guy since I was eighteen and the singer of an alternative rock band at a local venue had asked me out between sets. I'd walked around on music groupie cloud nine for a week waiting for a date that turned out to be a complete bore. The singer looked far less glorious when he wasn't on stage behind a microphone, and his personality was as flat as some of his notes.

But this time was different. I already knew that the man waiting for me in the hallway was glorious without the microphone, and there was nothing flat or boring about him.

Cool air from the hallway brushed my face and bare shoulders as I swung open the door. My dinner partner had opted for a dark green button down shirt, black jeans and black boots. I couldn't have made him more beautiful, even with my magical digital illustrator's tools. He was glistening with perfection.

Holt hadn't said a word but his expression said a lot.

I looked down at my dress, more to hide the blush than anything. "Do you like it? Coco has great taste and an uncanny ability to pick size." I lifted my face and was once again struck by how much he looked like the Ziggy on my computer.

"If you'll excuse my language," he said as he stepped closer, "you looking fucking hot."

"Considering I work with a group of people who use the f-word more than the word the, I think I can excuse you. Besides, somehow it sounds much better coming from you than from a tech nerd."

"Good to know." He lifted his massive arm and I took hold of it. We walked down the stairs toward the incredible aroma coming from the kitchen. "Coco left everything we need in the dining room. I promised her we'd clean up afterward."

"Oh, is she not going to eat with us?"

"No, she left to visit her sister. She won't be back until tomorrow morning."

We headed down the hallway and into a formal dining room. With its richly colored wallpaper and ornate Victorian furniture, it looked as if it had been preserved from the nineteenth century. Even the light fixtures looked as if they had at one time held candles instead of glowing light bulbs.

The sideboard was covered with white linen and an array of food. We walked over to serve ourselves.

I cut a piece of cheesy lasagna out of the casserole dish and placed it on his plate. "Now, I grew up with two older brothers, who both played football, and they would be able to eat three of those squares. Something tells me you’ll need at least three too."

"Three works. I have two brothers too. Growing up, my mom never seemed to be able to keep the refrigerator filled."

"Are you the biggest?" I cut another two squares for him and placed a square on my plate.

"Do you mean oldest?"

"No, I mean biggest."

"Second biggest. My brother, Max, is a few inches bigger." Holt popped the wine open and poured us each a glass.

I stared up at him. When he stood close by, I had to tilt my head back as if I was looking up to the top of a tall tree. "A few inches bigger—that is almost scary to imagine."

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