that would be attached, not to mention, I’d discussed one more whimsical addition with Roberto yesterday—a chimney with Santa’s legs waving out the top.
I thought it was a genius idea, until I turned and found Saint watching me, his lithe form resting against one of the columns as he spoke with some of the bellmen. Seeing him, I was overcome with the overwhelming urge to dunk his warm, penetrating gaze down a chimney so I wouldn’t have to feel it tempting me with things I knew I couldn’t have. And that made me realize exactly where the genius idea had come from.
“I really think you’re overestimating my skill,” I warned Noelle, lingering for as long as I could in the lobby, knowing the Cirque Room, while set aside for the entire day for the hotel staff and guests to make ornaments for the tree, would also be where he was. “And underestimating how much I really have to do.”
“Or maybe you’re just overcomplicating how you feel about Mr. Nicholsen, and I’m simply undertaking to make it simpler,” she retorted with a sprightly smile, her elf hat jingling as she tossed me a sharp look over her shoulder.
I felt my face heat. “I’m not overcomplicating anything,” I huffed. “I’m avoiding, there’s a difference.”
She chuckled and my feet finally gave way into a steady pace toward the bright and bustling lounge.
I had to hope the rest of the staff wasn’t as observant or perceptive as Noelle. There really wasn’t anything to be observant of.
Except how he brought me and my team coffee in the morning. Or how he always made sure to check on me and how things were going around lunch. Or the way his eyes always found their way to me whenever we were in the same room.
Like now.
A familiar shiver tinseled my spine as soon as we walked into the larger ballroom. I let my eyes wander along the golden walls and over the tables laid throughout the space, covered with various craft tools and decorations, surrounded by every kind of personnel the hotel employed—from bellmen to housekeeping to front desk to concierge to...Saint.
His gaze was on me. Eager with a touch of hunger that made my stomach tighten.
I shouldn’t be here.
I should be working on my house—getting it built and open to the public, so I could get out of here and hibernate through the holiday.
So I could get as far away from the man who promised all kinds of magic to make me fall in love with a time that had only served to hurt me.
“Hey, Sue! Marcela!” Noelle cheerfully greeted two other women who worked at the desk with her during the week.
“We’ve been looking for you,” Marcela exclaimed, sliding to the side to make room for the two of us at the end of the table.
“I was picking up a straggler.” Noelle nodded in my direction.
“Guilty as charged,” I admitted, my eyes widening as I looked at the smorgasbord of art supplies on the table.
“Oh, that’s okay! We’re so excited to see the house when it’s done, Holly,” she gushed. “It’s all everyone is talking about. I mean, two-stories? That’s crazy!”
I laughed. “Not crazy, trust me. I’ve got it all planned out.”
The house was planned. The unsteady beat of my heart and heat between my thighs sensing Saint approaching was not.
“I can’t wait to bring my nieces and nephew. My sister doesn’t do much for the holiday, so coming here is the highlight of their season, even more than the gifts,” she went on while I hesitantly picked through the wood backing and markers, glitter bottles and glue. “It’s going to be magical, I can see it already.”
I winced and kept my eyes down feeling warmth spread over my back a second before I heard him.
“That’s what I keep telling her.” Saint’s soothing voice lulled over me, familiar and beckoning like a fire, popping and cracking with the promise of heat.
“Oh, Mr. Nicholsen,” they all gushed and genially welcomed him.
“This is an even bigger turnout than last year,” Marcela mused, nodding around the room.
“I was just thinking that myself,” he replied, his eyes shifting to me. “I’m glad to see so many faces here. It will make the tree even more special.”
“So, the ornament-making isn’t required?” I asked, sweetness thinly veiling my frustration. It wasn’t even about the ornaments; it was about him.
“Oh, Holly.” Noelle giggled and elbowed me lightly. “You don’t have to be ashamed if you show us all up with your artistic