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“And secondly—” and Emily let her voice drop to a whisper “—there’s no guarantee I’m going to sleep with this guy…this J.P. Webster.”
Sue made a sound of protest. “But you said…”
Emily put a hand up, stopping Sue, then glanced around. No one was listening, thankfully—folks were too intent on their gift swapping and drinking from Ava’s generous open bar.
“I said I was finally going to do something about my two-year celibacy. And I meant it,” Emily declared, her body sending a pleasant zing dancing over her nerve endings at the thought. “But I’ve never even seen J.P. before. We’ve only exchanged emails.”
“My sister got married to a guy she met on the Internet,” Sue countered.
Emily rolled her eyes. “The last thing I need is to get married. I’m just…I just want…” She searched for a noncrude way to put it.
“You’re just looking for someone to stuff your stocking.” Sue winked.
So much for noncrude. Emily felt her cheeks redden. “Well, that’s not how I would’ve put it. But…well, yes.”
“So why shouldn’t it be this J.P.?” Sue pressed. “You guys have been e-mailing for almost two years now.”
“About business stuff only.” J.P. Webster worked for a big hotel chain and taught a class on hotel management online. Emily had taken the class, then asked some questions after it was done. J.P. had been tremendously kind and helpful. They were exchanging e-mails once a month lately, and the correspondence had turned more friendly than academic. “Maybe he’s ugly. Maybe he’s old. Maybe he’s gay, for all I know. We’ve never flirted or anything.” Emily frowned, thinking about it. “We get along really well. Like we’re old friends.”
“Well, maybe he’s young, cute and ready to be really, really friendly.”
Emily smirked. Privately, that’s exactly what she was hoping.
For the past few years Emily had lived for one thing and one thing only: the Stanfield Arms, the hotel she’d created from her family’s mansion, one of the oldest buildings in Tall Pines, Connecticut. She’d buried herself in work and she hadn’t even bothered with a relationship. Part of that was because she’d been far too busy, but part of it was also because of Tall Pines itself. A definite problem with living in such a small town was that with everyone weighing in on your dating decisions, if things didn’t work out, not only would you face a postmortem from everyone on why the relationship ended, you were face-to-face with your ex almost every day. She’d experienced it in action. It was nightmarish.
So the hotel filled her days, but lately her nights were leaving her more and more restless. After Thanksgiving, she’d made the decision: she was going to have a physical relationship, something brief and discreet, preferably with an out-of-towner who would then leave. So far, the only prospect was J.P., who’d suggested staying at the hotel over the holidays.
Please, please let him be cute.
“Come on,” Emily said. “Let’s swap our gifts and get out of here. I want to head back to the inn.”
Sue smiled knowingly. “Attagirl.”
They walked over to the crystal bowl that held the names of everyone at the party on slips of paper. Sue drew a name first, grimacing as she read it.
“Damn. I got old Reverend Smith,” she said. “I don’t think he’s going to like the Chocolate Orgasm hot chocolate I brought.”
Emily laughed, drawing a slip of paper. She opened it, staring at the name and frowning. “Colin. Colin who?”
Sue’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. Colin Reese?”
Emily felt heat explode in her chest. “No. It couldn’t be,” she murmured. “He hasn’t been back in town for the holidays since high school.”
Sue shrugged. “I’m not surprised. He hated this town.” She nudged Emily. “Didn’t you have a crush on him? Way back when?”
Only for ten years, Emily thought, her heart rate picking up speed. She shook her head. “Okay, I’m going to give him the gift and get the heck out of here.”
“I’m planning on grilling you the minute I get into work tomorrow,” Sue said. “I want every detail about J. P. Webster!”
Emily chuckled. “If there’s anything to tell.” She was trying not to get her hopes up too high. She hugged Sue goodbye, then went in search of Colin.
She found him sitting in the living room, half-hidden by the enormous Christmas tree, drinking eggnog. She paused for a minute, trying to get her bearings.
For a woman who hadn’t had sex in two years, the sight of Colin Reese was enough to blow out all her sensual circuits.
He was wearing a gray sweater that molded itself nicely to his broad shoulders, and his dark brown hair was still flecked with streaks of copper, even though it was cut shorter than she remembered…back when she used to stare at him, all those years ago. His eyes were still the same deep, deep green, she noticed, as he gazed absently across the crowded room.
Her palms started to sweat.
Just get it over with, she chided herself. No matter how much she’d fantasized about him, he was not a candidate to end her sexual drought. For one thing, he was the town’s black sheep—if word leaked out, she’d never hear the end of it.
She gripped her gift bag, took a resolute breath and walked up to him. “Hi, Colin.”
He looked at her, obviously distracted. Then he stood and focused on her, gracing her with a slow visual perusal and a lazy smile.
“Well, hi.”
She smiled back, ignoring the tingle of excitement his drawled greeting sent shooting through her. “Merry Christmas. I’m your Santa this year.”
“I’m in luck.” His deep voice sounded sinfully smooth, rich and luscious as a dark chocolate truffle.
She handed him the bag, watching as he opened it. He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Scented candles,” he said with obviously fake enthusiasm. “Thanks.”
She couldn’t help it. She giggled. “Sorry,” she said when he looked at her inquisitively. “Women usually outnumber men two to one at this party. Scented candles are normally a slam dunk.”
“Well, maybe I’ll enjoy them with a cup of tea and a bubble bath,” he joked. Unfortunately his comment caused her wayward mind to conjure up a picture of him naked and waist deep in hot water, the chiseled planes of his chest lit only by candlelight….
“So, um, what have you been up to?” she asked hastily, trying to dispel the image.
He shrugged. “I’m working on a new building. In Paris. I start after the new year.”
“That sounds exciting,” she said wistfully. “I’ve never been to Paris. Never took the time.”
They stood there for a second in awkward silence.
Just tell him goodbye, she thought. Then get back to the hotel and find out if J.P. is as cute as he is nice.
“So, er, what about you?” Colin asked before she could open her mouth and make her escape.
“Same old, same old,” she said noncommittally. “The inn’s doing really well. In fact, I have to—”
“The inn?” He frowned. “What inn?”
He’d been gone for a while, she realized. “I turned the Stanfield mansion into a hotel, what, four years ago,” she supplied. “It took two years to renovate, and then the past two I’ve been building up—”
“Stanfield,” he said, then his eyes widened. “Wait a second. You’re Emily Stanfield?”
That’s when it hit her. He hadn’t remembered her. He hadn’t even known who she was until just now.
Glad I made an impression, she thought, her flush of infatuation chilling as though she’d been dropped in a snowbank. “Well, it’s been great catching up, but I’ve got a hotel to run, so…”
“A hotel. Right here in town,” he mused, and to her shock, he took her hand before she could turn and walk away. “Emily Stanfield, you’re more than my Santa, you’re my godsend.”
She chuckled nervously, trying to ignore the sexual heat that his warm palm was sending up her arm. “That seems a little excessive for candles.”
He smiled slowly, his eyes dark and persuasive, his voice going low. “Please, please tell me you’ve got room at the inn.”
“What?” She blinked, confused by his sudden change of topic. “For who?”
He took a step closer to her, and she could feel the heat coming off his body as if she were standing in front of a fireplace.
“I was hoping,” he said, “that you might have room…for me.”
“I REALLY APPRECIATE this,” Colin said, sitting in the passenger seat of Emily’s Volvo, his bags in her trunk.
“Your mom may never forgive me,” Emily answered with a rueful sigh, “which is going to make being on the Easter Festival committee with her next year a little unpleasant. Why couldn’t you just stay at her house again?”
Colin grimaced. “My brother and sister and their spouses and kids are all staying there. I was sharing a room with my eight-year-old nephew, and with two more days till Christmas…”
“Been driving you crazy, huh?” There was a hint of a smile in her voice.
“You have no idea.”
Colin closed his eyes, remembering the scene at the breakfast table that very morning. They’d taken turns subtly—and not-so-subtly—grilling him. Why was he moving so far away? What happened to his last girlfriend? Why was he traveling all over the place and changing jobs so often? When was he going to settle down? And the perennial why couldn’t he find a nice girl and move home to Tall Pines?
He’d known it was a bad idea to stay at his parents’ house for the week before Christmas, while his apartment in Paris was being readied. He just hadn’t known how bad it was going to be until it was too late. The past three days had been hellish. He’d even suggested checking in to a hotel in a nearby town.
“And be so far from the house?” his mother had protested, scandalized. “With bad weather threatening the roads? You might miss Christmas with the kids!”
She’d had a point and he’d conceded. He did want to spend Christmas with his nieces and nephews, who were still small enough to make the whole thing fun.
Of course, his mother had neglected to mention the fact that there was a hotel right here in town.
He glanced over gratefully. Emily was staring intently at the road. Her auburn hair was swept up in a smooth French twist. Her high cheekbones and patrician nose, combined with her flawless skin, made her look cool and perfect, like a marble statue. Only the flash in her violet-blue eyes betrayed an inherent warmth.
No, he corrected himself, remembering. More than warmth. Heat. He’d definitely felt heat from her gaze when he’d looked over to find her standing in front of him.
Which called to mind his first look at her—crisp white blouse with a discreetly low neckline, knee-length black skirt, black nylons, black boots. Combined with her tasteful jewelry and her wire-rimmed glasses, she’d looked sophisticated and proper, sort of like a professor.
He’d always had a thing for prim teacher types. They usually hid anything-but-proper desires, and he had a sneaking feeling that Miss Stanfield was no exception.
Who would have thought that Emily Stanfield, daughter of one of the founding families and walking infomercial for all things Tall Pines, would have grown up to such a hottie?
“You’re lucky I had a cancelation,” Emily said, still not looking at him. “It’s one of my smaller rooms, but I think you’ll find it quite comfortable.”
Colin cleared his throat, feeling as if she could read his mind and realize the direction his thoughts were heading. “I’m surprised your family was okay with turning the mansion into a hotel,” he said, fishing around for a safe topic.
She paused for a second. “My mother moved to Florida with her new husband. She doesn’t really care one way or the other. My father probably would’ve minded, but he died five years ago, so…”
Colin felt guilt wash over him. “Oh, jeez. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“You haven’t been here. I didn’t expect you to.”
He sighed. “And the town? They were okay with it—you opening a hotel?”
“There are some people who are still getting used to it,” she answered. “You know how Tall Pines is.”
He clenched his jaw. Everything had to be preserved, as if the smallest mailbox was some kind of historical monument. If there was a town more resistant to change, he never wanted to visit it. “Yeah,” he muttered, “I know how Tall Pines is.”
“It’s been good for the local economy, so that’s brought a lot of people around,” she said. “And, honestly, being a Stanfield helped.”
“I’ll bet.”
The name Stanfield was synonymous with Tall Pines. Still, Stanfield or not, he imagined Emily was both organized and driven enough to start her own business if she wanted to. Two years younger than he was, she’d always been visible in school: editor in chief of the school newspaper, on the yearbook committee, in student government. She had been everywhere, it seemed. Her uncle had been the mayor before he’d died, and Colin could even recall Emily handing out campaign flyers, looking like a crisp autumn morning in her plaid skirt and pink sweater.
By high school, his lone goal had been escaping the Norman Rockwell normalcy of Tall Pines, while Emily had seemed to represent everything that the small town stood for. He’d hated the town but had been reluctantly fascinated with the girl, even if she never knew it.
That fascination seemed to be alive and well, he noted with some amusement.
They drove past the town square and up the hill to where the fancier houses stood, legacies of days past, when several tycoons had had hunting lodges here. The Stanfield mansion was one of the most opulent and, decked out with Christmas lights, it looked downright regal. “Wow,” he said, taking in the picture-perfect scene.
She parked the car, sending him a quicksilver smile that caused his stomach to tighten unexpectedly. “Thanks. This hotel’s my life.”
“It shows.” She’d obviously lavished a lot of love on the place.
For a brief, puzzling second, he envied the brick building.
Okay, you’re losing it.
That was why he hated the holidays, he thought as he hefted his bags and headed for the front door. They made a guy maudlin. He lived his life exactly the way he wanted it—full of adventure, with something new happening almost every day. He had no regrets. And right now the last thing he needed was to have some confusing, sentimental thoughts about a girl he hadn’t seen in years.
The large foyer had a curving staircase to the second floor. “Evening, Phillip,” she greeted a guy in a suit who stood behind an oak reception desk. “I’m going to need a key for Mr. Reese, here. For room twelve.”
The guy—Phillip—looked ruffled. “That’s going to be a problem,” he said. “The Rivers party showed up after all. They decided to brave the weather and have the vacation.”
“Oh?” Emily looked nonplussed for a second, then she turned to Colin, her expression apologetic. “I guess there’s no room at the inn after all.”
He winced. There was no way in hell he was going back to his parents’ house. “Considering the season, I don’t suppose you’ve got a manger or something,” he joked, feeling a little desperate. “I don’t take up much room.”
She shook her head. “Even the garage is filled up with cars. Sorry, Colin. I’ll drive you back.”
“Wait a second,” he said, pulling her aside, away from the inquisitive Phillip. “Seriously. Isn’t there anyplace you could stick me? Maid’s room? Good-size pantry? I’d even be happy with a broom closet.”
She sighed. “I’d love to help you out, but…”
“You don’t understand,” he interrupted. “My six-year-old niece has been waking me up at five-thirty every morning to watch Sesame Street. My eight-year-old nephew, who’s sharing my room, has been keeping me up until two because he’s convinced that there are monsters. I’ve been crammed onto an army cot.” He could see that it wasn’t getting through to her…that no matter what his plea, she was the type who could withstand it.
He swallowed hard and played his trump card.
