Page 14 of Noel
I smooth down my black, high-waisted faux-leather skirt—professional, polished, and, okay, maybe a little daring—and button up the crisp white blouse I’d ironed last night with the big collar and deep v that emphasize my bust rather than my belly.
The boots add height, the wedge heel kind enough to my feet to survive Manhattan sidewalks.
The red wool jacket draped over my chair is the perfect festive finishing touch.
“Wow!Seriously, Holly.”Clementine gasps through the phone.“Where are you going?Are you getting dressed up for Noel?”
I freeze mid–button.
“What?No!Why would you say that?”
“Because you look hot, Holly.Like, better than our last Yoga class’s bar night mingle kind of hot.Maybe evenaccidentally on purpose seducing your bodyguardhot.”
I groan.“What?I always dress like this.”
“Do you?”she teases.“Because I’m thinking it has less to do with the holiday spirit and more to do with a new muscly shadow following you around.Tell the truth—it’s for him.”
I roll my eyes and snort—yes, I am thatcool and ladylike, don’t be jealous.
“You know what, I don’t know, Clem.I’ve worn this outfit before.Besides, how exactly does one dress for coffee with her bodyguard?”
“I’d say exactly like that,” she snorts.“But honestly, you might not make it out the door if he sees you first.”
“Clementine!”
“Hey, I warned you.The man’s got serious brooding-hero energy.You sure you’re safe in that tiny apartment with him prowling around?”
I laugh, shaking my head as I walk out of my bedroom coat in hand, phone anchored to my ear now with my shoulder as I dig through my pockets, removing old receipts and change.
“He’s not even here yet, he stayed outside all night.And he’s not prowling.Noel’s a professional.”
There’s a low rumble of sound behind me.A throat clearing.
I freeze.
The phone slips from my shoulder, landing on the floor as I whirl around—heart leaping into my throat.
Noel Kane stands right behind me.
Black t-shirt.Jeans.Boots.And a tool bag slung over one arm like it weighs nothing.
His hair is slightly damp, and there’s a smear of dust across his forearm that somehow makes him look even more unfairly hot.
“Actually,” he says, voice rough with sleep and gravel, “I’ve been in here for about an hour.You were in the shower.”
Clementine’s voice crackles faintly from the phone.“Holly?Hellooo?Did I lose you?”
I bend down and snatch the phone.
“I’ll call you back!”I squeak, hanging up so fast I nearly drop it again.
“What do you mean you’ve been here for an hour?”
He looks around the room and shrugs, unbothered.
“I had a courier drop off the rest of the equipment around two a.m.Waited for you to wake up.Figured it was faster to get the basics installed while you were showering and getting dressed.That way I’d be done before you started your day.”
“Installed?”I repeat, watching as he sets the tool bag down and gestures toward the window.
