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“Much.” She smirks. “Come on. We need to get scissors.”
“My dad keeps some in his office,” which is the closest one to us at the moment.
Though it’s not a task that takes two people, we both stride to his office. Not that I mind. It gives me another chance to admire the gentle sway of Holly’s hips as she walks in front of me.
“I think your dad keeps a box of utility knives on the shelf behind the door.”
Nodding, I close the door so I can reach them. I look through a few boxes before I find it. “Will this one work?”
“I grabbed some scissors too, just in case.”
“Then it seems like we should be covered in cutting the twine.”
“Seems like it.” She grins at me, and I miss a breath.
Holly reaches for the handle. And it—the damn handle that nearly turned me into a soprano the other day—falls off the door in her hand. Her eyes widen and she meets my gaping stare.
“Well, shit,” she says with a short laugh.
Panic lances my heart and I cross the short distance to her and take the knob. She stands back and watches, humor playing on those tempting lips of hers, while I try—and fail—several times to get the handle to stick back on it.
“So that won’t work.” I pass the handle back to her. I turn back toward my dad’s desk and grab a ruler. “Let’s try this.”
She arches an eyebrow. “A ruler?”
I stick it into the small hole, trying to see if I can trigger the handle on the other side. But the ruler is too wide. I try the pair of scissors next. Then my finger.
None of them work.
“So much for that idea.” Running my hands through my hair, I pace back and forth to my dad’s office. “We have to get out of here.”
There’s no way I can stay stuck in here with this woman for God-knows-how-long until we’re discovered. Not when every time I look at her my libido lights up like the damn Christmas tree we just hauled up the elevator.
“We should call someone.” I pause mid-stride. “Do you have the number for the security desk on your phone?”
“I do, but…” She shakes her head. “I don’t have my phone. It’s in my purse. Which is in my office. What about your phone?”
I pat my pockets and wince. “I left it next to the tree.”
I stalk across the room to my dad’s desk. I pick up the phone and there’s no dial tone. “How do I dial out?”
“You can’t.”
“What do you mean I can’t?”
I turn, and she’s pulling a face. “The phones—and the Internet—are all down tonight for routine maintenance.”
“You’re joking.”
“I wish I was.”
I suck in a breath. Great. Just great. I’m stuck in my dad’s office with a beautiful woman who apparently finds me frustrating.
Could this Christmas get any better?
FIVE
HOLLY
