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Good thing he was leaving in the morning, because one more day in Tall Pines could mean real trouble if his mother decided she’d found him a wife.
“EMILY, YOU LOOK great this evening,” Mayor Tim Ryfield said, sitting at the head of the dinner table at his house. “I’m so glad you could make it…especially since we’ve never had dinner together before.”
Emily forced a smile of her own. “A Stanfield has been a guest at the mayor’s Christmas party for the past fifty years, Tim,” she said. “I’m glad to attend.”
There. That showed that she still wasn’t really having dinner with him. The last thing she wanted was to date the mayor of Tall Pines, even though she was continually tossed together with him. She wouldn’t be surprised if there was some Getting Emily and Mayor Tim Married committee meeting on a monthly basis.
Ava Reese was probably the chairperson. She chaired nearly everything else.
Emily caught herself grinning at the traitorous thought. She blamed Colin’s influence. Not that they’d had much interaction in the two days he’d been staying with her. Still, the mere knowledge of his presence had been severely disquieting to her state of mind.
“Stanfields always do their duty,” Mayor Tim agreed. “You know, if you’d run against me for mayor, you probably would’ve won.”
“Why would I want to be mayor?” she asked, bewildered.
“I’m not saying that,” he corrected. “I’m saying you’re a big part of this town. People like you and trust you. They know they can count on you.”
She stared at him. “Tim, did you want me to be your campaign manager next year or something?”
He laughed. “That’s the other thing I like about you, Em. You’re honest and straightforward.”
“Honest, straightforward, trustworthy,” she muttered. “You’re making me sound like a Boy Scout. So spit it out. Why are you buttering me up?”
He looked thoughtfully at his roomful of guests. There were a lot of other people sitting around the large table—the mayor’s Christmas party was a long-standing tradition—but everyone else was involved in their own conversations, thankfully. Tim’s voice lowered.
“You know how everyone’s been matchmaking between us for the past year or so?”
She nodded heavily, feeling pained.
“I’ve been fighting it, too,” he pointed out. “But I’ve been thinking about it. And maybe, just maybe, they’re on to something.”
Her eyes widened. “I know you’ve asked me to dinner, but I’ve never really thought you’ve been serious about it.”
“I wasn’t,” he admitted. “But I’m not getting any younger. I’ve been focused on politics since I was in high school, Em.”
“I remember,” she said, shaking her head. “You were the only junior I knew who had a press kit.”
“It got me this far. And I’d like to go further. To do that, I’m going to need a wife.”
Now her eyes bugged out. “Holy crap, you’re not asking me to marry you, are you?”
As it happened, her statement popped out when there was a lull in all the other conversations. You could have heard a spoon drop. The entire table was riveted on the two of them.
“I’m not asking you to marry me—yet,” Tim said, eliciting a suggestive chuckle from the other partygoers. “I’m saying maybe we should try going out.”
“Oh, Tim,” Emily protested, shaking her head. “That’s not such a great idea.”
“Why not?” He managed to sound reasonable, even logical about it. “I’m not seeing anybody. And you’re not involved with anyone.” For a fraction of a second he looked tentative. “That is, you aren’t seeing anyone, are you?”
She closed her eyes. Unbidden, the image of Colin wearing just pajama pants sprang into her mind. The scent of him, the feel of his hands, his mouth…the wine-edged taste of his kiss.
“No,” she admitted, her voice ragged. “I’m not involved.”
And whose fault is that?
Not that a one-night stand really equaled involvement. That was the point of it, being one night, after all.
“So there you have it,” Tim said as if that was the only barrier to their relationship.
“You’re sweet, and we’ve known each other for a long time,” she said gently. “But—”
“You haven’t given this a fair shake,” he said implacably. “I know I’ve fallen into nice-guy syndrome with you, but if you give me a chance, I think you’ll discover we’re quite compatible.”
“Come on, Emily,” Mrs. Rutledge said from across the table. “You have to admit, you’ve been pretty chilly about the whole thing.”
“No harm in trying,” Mr. Rutledge added.
“One simple date is not going to kill you,” Mrs. Macnamara said, contributing her two cents.
Emily was appalled. Apparently they’d all ganged up on her tonight. “Let me think about it.” She saw that they were ready to ply her with a second assault, so she quickly said, “Oh, and by the way, I hear that there’s a big supermarket chain that’s trying to buy the Henderson lot.”
With that, she set off a tidal wave of debate—which was the point.
Under the cover of the heated rhetoric, she turned to Tim. “Don’t ever, ever put me on the spot like that again.”
“It wasn’t entirely my idea,” he said mildly. “You’re the one who yelped about a marriage proposal.”
“Well, I hate feeling cornered. And you’re a great guy, Tim, but I just don’t feel that way about you.”
“What way is that?”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t…that is, I’m not…Oh, hell. There’s no fire between us. No passion.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, grinning and taking a forkful of turkey from his plate.
Emily blinked. “I’m not head over heels in love with you is what I’m saying.”
“Good God.” He sounded horrified. “I’d hope not!”
She finally shook her head. “Okay, apparently somebody slipped acid in my Christmas punch, because I’m having a hard time tracking here. Weren’t you trying to date me a second ago?”
“I do think we should date. And if everything works out, I think we should get married,” he said as easily as if he were picking an item off a lunch menu. “This is political, Em, not personal. I’m not looking for somebody I’m madly in love with—assuming I could fall madly in love. Which I seriously doubt I’m capable of, by the way.”
She tilted her head, surveying him. She’d always seen him as a good guy, maybe a little too ambitious and nose-to-the-grindstone but still overall decent. Now she realized that there was something sort of melancholy about him…something he kept carefully hidden.
“You’ve never been in love?”
“Thankfully, no,” he said. “But you have. And you’ve been hurt.” He smiled, and it was genuinely kind. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Em. I’m just saying let’s be partners. Give it a try. What have you got to lose?”
She thought about it. What did she have to lose?
Again Colin blazed through her mind, almost overwhelming her senses even in the comparative dimness of memory.
I need passion, she thought.
But did she really want to fall madly in love again?
Emily started fidgeting with her linen napkin, crushing it into a wad on her lap.
It was so much easier when all I wanted was sex. She got the feeling that sex with Tim would be…
She wrinkled her forehead, trying to visualize it. Actually, she couldn’t even imagine sex with Tim. Whereas she could imagine weeklong scenarios of sex with someone far more inappropriate. Like, say, Colin.
Oh, give it a rest, you idiot.
“Trust me. It’s a cliché, but passion fades,” Tim said quietly. “Good friendships, a relationship based on partnership and mutual goals—now that’s got staying power.”
“Hmm.”
“Man, you’re stubborn,” he said, leaning back. “You’re going to the New Year’s Eve ball, right?”
She nodded.
“Flying solo, I’ll bet. Well, why don’t you go with me? Dinner here beforehand, and then the limo will drive us there and back.” He winked. “Don’t look at it as a date. Look at it as a ride share with a free meal thrown in.”
She laughed. “You’re charming, I’ll give you that.”
“Got me elected two terms in a row,” he replied smugly.
She focused back on her meal, but she was still thinking about passion. And Colin.
He’s leaving, anyway.
The thought came unbidden. He’d said he was leaving the morning after Christmas, which meant tomorrow morning. She’d only have one more night with him. Then it’d probably be years before she ever saw him again.
Technically he really is an out-of-towner, her subconscious suggested conspiratorially.
So where did that leave her?
“Merry Christmas, everybody!” Tim called out, raising his glass.
“Merry Christmas,” she echoed. If she married Tim, this would be her future—formal dinners, companionable friendship, a partnership made with the town in mind. Comfortable, idyllic, picture-perfect. It wouldn’t be all that bad, considering.
If you slept with Colin, even if you never felt passion again, at least you’d have an incredible memory to live with.
Emily blinked. Sleep with Colin? Ava Reese’s son? The guy Tall Pines loved to gossip about?
Who would ever know besides the two of you?
The thought caused a wave of heat to curl through her. He wasn’t even going to see his family afterward if they did spend the night together. He’d just go straight to the airport and that’d be the end of it.
No one would find out.
“There. Now you look happy,” Tim said.
She nodded. She was happy.
Or at least she would be happy…as soon as she got home.
IT WAS AROUND ten o’clock when Colin got back to Emily’s place. He entered quietly, wondering if maybe she was asleep. He wished he were. He was exhausted. He loved visiting with his family, but still, he’d be glad when his cab came and took him to the airport in the morning.
All he needed to do was avoid any contact with Emily, leave her a nice thank-you note and he’d be home free.
The fire was lit, he noticed, and there was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. His scented candles were lit, as well, making the room smell like autumn, with subtle hints of pine, nutmeg and cloves.
He glanced around, puzzled. “Emily?”
She stepped out of the bedroom wearing the robe he’d seen her in his first night at her apartment. Her feet were bare, her hair was loose and tumbled wildly around her shoulders. She smiled. “Colin,” she said, and her violet-blue eyes were dark with promise. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.” She looked like a present—waiting to be unwrapped.
“I thought since you’d be missing New Year’s, maybe you’d like some champagne.” She nodded to the bottle. “If you’d do the honors?”
His gaze went from the champagne to her loosely belted robe, then back to the champagne. Then, furtively, back to her robe, which opened up into a tantalizing V of creamy, exposed skin.
Things were not going to plan.
In fact, things were going to hell in a hurry, and he’d be in too deep in a matter of moments if he didn’t take action.
Ah, but what a way to go.
He shook his head, trying to clear it of his prurient thoughts. “Um, Emily…this may not be all that swift a decision.”
“What do you mean?” She sat down on the couch, and the hem of her robe shifted to reveal a very shapely leg. Her feet were small with high arches, and her toenails were painted crimson, like ripe cherries.
It took him a second to remember her question. “We’ve been through this once already, remember?” he said, referencing his very spontaneous—and very rejected—kiss.
She smiled, a slow, deliciously wicked smile. “I’m simply asking for champagne,” she purred, leaning back. The motion caused her breasts to press against the robe, forcing the neckline open a few fractions farther. “At least, that’s all for right now.”
Colin almost knocked the bottle over in his haste to turn away from her tempting display. He opened it and slowly poured two glasses, keeping his back to her.
She’s hot, no question. But she’s trouble. Remember?
No matter how tempting Emily Stanfield might be, sleeping with her would open a can of worms.
“So,” he said slowly, handing her a champagne flute and carefully sitting as far from her as the couch would allow. “I take it you’ve reconsidered my out-of-town status, then?”
He closed his eyes. He shouldn’t have asked, but he was curious as to her change of heart. She laughed, and the sound warmed his bloodstream like brandy.
