'Twas the Week Before Christmas (7 page)

The entire street was illuminated by strands of lights wrapped around every lamp post and tree and draped over each shop awning. All along the sidewalk, a festival of lights had been assembled in every color of the rainbow. Santa and his sleigh. A slew of tiny elves. Snowmen, reindeer, and every other Christmas-themed notion. The effect was not short of magical, and cars in front of them slowed to enjoy the display.

“Quite a show,” Max said tightly.

“They do it every year,” she told him. Her eyes flitted from side to side, eager to take in every lighted object. “It’s one of the traditions I love most about this town.”

Max had turned to face her, and she distractedly met his stare. Even amidst the sparkle of the light show, she could see the blaze of mirth in his eyes at her reaction.

“I’m sorry,” she chuckled, collapsing against her seatback. Her cheeks colored fiercely, and she was grateful he wouldn’t notice with all the red lights pouring in from the window. Laughing at herself she said, “Maybe you’re right. I really do have more Christmas spirit than most.”

Max spared her a lopsided grin. “You’re forgiven. Besides, it’s kind of cute.”

Holly’s mouth snapped shut. She had forgotten what she was about to say. She merely stared. Her ability to speak, gone. Max was blissfully unaware of the effect he had on her as he pulled the car to a stop and turned off the ignition.

Cute. He thought she was cute. She replayed the exact words again, just to be sure he had really spoken them.

Butterflies fluttered through Holly’s stomach and into her chest. She swallowed hard and stepped out of the car, wishing suddenly that she could climb back inside and have Max all to herself again. She didn’t want to have to share the night with anyone or anything. She wanted to focus all of her attention on him. Without distraction.

Nights like this didn’t happen often in her world, and she was determined to commit this evening to memory.

Maybe it would be a story she would one day share with their children.

She banished the thought just as quickly as it formed. Ludicrous! She was getting ahead of herself, and she of all people should know better.

“Why don’t we go over to the tree lighting?” Max suggested.

Holly tipped her head. “Oh...it’s okay.”

“Hey! I’m new in town. You’re supposed to be showing me all the local attractions,” he teased.

“But I thought you didn’t want to go.”

He peered at her suspiciously. “I never said that.”

Holly flashed back to their conversation. Perhaps he hadn’t spoken the exact words, but he had still managed to show a concrete lack of enthusiasm. “Okay, I guess you didn’t say that. But seriously, we don’t have to go. I’ve been to this every year. It wouldn’t kill me to miss it this one time.”

“So it’s a tradition for you, is it?” Max began walking toward the center of the square. The decision had been made.

Running the few feet to catch up, Holly asked, “How about you? Any family traditions?”

Max sniffed and shivered in his coat. He avoided eye contact by staring in the shop windows. “Not really.”

The answer was less than satisfying. Holly curbed a swell of frustration and tried again. “So, you’ve already established that you avoid Christmas. What do you usually do instead of celebrating?”

Max shrugged. “Work.”

Something inside Holly hardened. Work. She should have known. Why else would he be in town—on business—the week before Christmas?

Holly felt her stomach curdle with disenchantment.

So there it was. A workaholic. She knew the type all too well thanks to Brendan. Men who would rather climb the corporate ladder than be tied down with a wife and kids. Men who only wanted a girlfriend when it was convenient for them. Men who didn’t want to be held responsible for anything serious. Men who wanted to work hard and play hard without complications. She should have known, really. Max was gorgeous, unattached, and clearly very successful. It was a common combination. And a lethal one, in her experience.

Her heart contracted with each breath, throbbing with pressure as the reality of the situation became all too clear. It was too good to be true. She should have known. Max was who he was and she was not going to be the girl to try and change him. She’d been a fool once, and she’d be damned if she’d be one again.

He may be cute and rich and have a smile that could make her knees shake, but he’d break her heart without a bat of his curly, black lashes. If she let him.

They began to approach the town square with hands thrust in pockets, chins tucked in scarves, and quietly gathered with the other townspeople who were crowded below the base of a large evergreen. A children’s choir was huddled together, waiting for their cue from the elementary school’s music teacher.

“Beautiful tree this year, Holly!” someone cried out and Holly beamed.

“That’s your tree?” Max whispered, his eyes wide.

“I donate one every year,” she said. “With so much land, it’s the least I can do.”

“The owner doesn’t mind?” A frown line creased Max’s forehead.

Holly’s breath caught. “I’m surprised you would remember that I didn’t own the land,” she said, feeling slightly uneasy.

But Max just threw her a devastating grin. “I learned a long time ago that when a pretty girl talks, you should listen.”

Holly cheeks burned with pleasure and she skirted her eyes to her feet. When she dared to glance his way again, Max was scrutinizing her with an amused smile.

Relief finally came when the children’s choir suddenly broke out in song, their small, sweet voices echoing in the night air. A chill descended over the crowd as the mesmerizing, almost haunting sound filled the silence. At the last verse, the tree immediately sprang to life, and the magnificent lights illuminated the crowd’s smiling faces.

Max leaned in to her and whispered, “Cold?” The soft touch of his breath so close to her ear as he whispered such a simple question forced a rush of electricity to run the length of Holly’s body. She trembled slightly and then quickly drew a sharp gust of freezing air in a vain attempt to regain some form of composure.

Mistaking her shudder for a shiver, Max draped an arm around her shoulder. His dense parka felt like a down blanket as he pulled her in closer. “That better?”

She barely managed a nod. Max’s proximity began caving in on her, causing her body to respond in a primal way she had not experienced in a very long time. Even through the thick coat, she could feel the hard wall of his chest as he held her close, and the strong weight of his arm as it enveloped her shoulder, his hand gracing down to rest on her elbow. A flush of desire poured through her blood, heightening her senses. Her mind began to reel with the possibilities of what his body would feel like against hers and she had a swift and all-consuming urge to rip off that parka and press him firmly against her so she could properly feel the contours of his body, and the ripples of his muscled chest.

She knew that indulging herself with these thoughts was pointless. She could never act on them. She would only be disappointed. He was leaving in a matter of days. And he had made it clear where his priorities lay. But it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy the moment...

Once the last song had been sung and the last ovation had been given, the group begin to disperse. A crowd was already working its way to Lucy’s Place or the pizzeria, not quite ready for the evening to end. Max slipped his arm from her shoulder and said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. Shall we?”

He crooked his arm by invitation and wordlessly, Holly slipped her mittened hand through. A surge of longing choked her, drowning her in a sea of desire and conflicting emotion. Her body ached for his touch and the sensation it stirred within her.

She knew she had only just met him. He was, for all intents and purposes, a complete stranger. A stranger here for an extended stay. A workaholic. A bachelor by his own choosing. He was wrong. All wrong.

And Holly knew all at once that she was in very big trouble.

* * *

Holly slipped into the chair across from Max and unraveled her scarf from her neck. He watched as she twisted her upper body to hang her coat over the back of her chair, her tiny waist craning, and her breasts pressing against the thin cashmere of her black sweater.

Sitting so close to her, Max felt more alive than ever. The heat of her body so close to his was so intense, the sweet smell of her flowery perfume so feminine, that it took everything in him not to reach down and graze a finger along the small, creamy hand that held her menu.

“So, just so that we’re clear, tonight’s on me.” He watched as Holly lowered her eyes and her features twisted in protest. Before she could speak, he held up a palm. “I insist.”

Holly gave a shy smile as she looked up at him from under her long, graceful lashes. “Thank you.”

“Now. What’s good here?” Max turned the menu over and studied the specials. Lucy’s Place was about comfort food, it seemed. Chicken pot pie. Mac and cheese. Fish and chips.

“I’ll admit I haven’t eaten dinner here very often.” Holly’s brows knitted as she studied the menu and Max felt himself grow curious.

“Really?” He leaned in closer to study her pretty face. Her soft, full lips were painted with a tinted red gloss that he wanted to kiss right off her mouth. His groin tightened as she met his gaze and he abruptly reached for his water glass to defuse the heat she stirred within him. Desire choked him, closing his throat and making it hard to swallow the icy liquid. He wanted this woman. Badly. But given the circumstances, she was off-limits. His mind knew it, but his body wasn’t yet ready to accept it.

“I don’t really get out much,” she explained. Her hazel eyes darkened at the admission, and he felt a strange affection for her take hold and linger. Holly seemed like a woman surrounded by loving friends. Maybe he had misunderstood.

“Life at the inn keeps me so busy,” she continued. “We serve dinner every night, so it usually makes sense for me to just eat there.”

Max held her gaze with his, searching for something in them beyond her explanation. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he detected a shadow creeping over her face.

“Well, they have wine,” he noted, pulling his eyes from hers to glance back at the menu. “Want to share a bottle?”

Holly brightened. “Sure.”

“White or red?”

“Red for the winter. White for summer.”

Max’s lips twitched. She was a funny little thing. “Red it is then.”

The waitress he remembered from earlier came over to their table, grinning at Holly. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” she said.

“Hey, Emily,” Holly said. She glanced at Max, pinching her pretty little lips. “I was just telling Max that I don’t get out much for dinner.”

“Not enough,” Emily said. “Guess it takes someone special to drag her away from the job.”

From the corner of his vision, Max could see a flush appear on Holly’s cheeks. He couldn’t deny the twist of pleasure that stirred his belly.

“I’m Max,” he said abruptly to the waitress, forcing away thoughts that shouldn’t linger. “I saw you this morning, but didn’t catch your name.”

The young woman smiled warmly. “Emily Porter,” she said. “So what can I get you?”

Max placed the order and turned his attention back to Holly, his anxiety growing in their small silences. He needed to keep pressing forward, keep talking to her. If he stopped and thought about what he was doing, he’d stand up and leave. He knew better than to be sitting here with her right now, but he was powerless to his own desire. He liked this woman, and it had been a long time since he had felt this way about anyone. Normally, the first sense of heartfelt interest made him start thinking of an excuse to end things quickly, but not so with Holly. It went beyond the way his gut tightened in response to her natural feminine curves. It was something in her voice. In her smile. Something that touched him on a level he was unfamiliar with. Something that made his heart ache.

Of all people.

“I was sorry to see Evelyn leave,” he confided. “I was starting to like having her around.”

Holly smiled and tucked her menu behind the napkin holder. “I was afraid she would scare you off.”

“It takes a lot to scare me off.”

Holly dropped her eyes once more and her lashes fluttered against her rosy cheeks. He hadn’t noticed how shy she could be, and her sudden vulnerability made the man in him want to wrap his arms around her and take care of her forever.

He gritted his teeth. How ironic that the one person she needed protecting from was himself.

“Is she always like that?” he asked, pushing down the guilt as best he could. He buried it deep in the pit of his stomach and focused on their conversation.

Holly arched a brow. “Meddlesome, you mean?”

Max chuckled, recalling Evelyn sitting in his room earlier that afternoon regaling him with tales of other guests she’d had the pleasure—or displeasure moreover—of meeting over her many semiannual visits. “Yeah, I don’t even know the best word to describe her. She’s certainly one of a kind.”

Holly slipped him a secret smile. “I think she had a crush on you.”

Max felt himself blush and he broke out in laughter to cover his embarrassment. “She seems like a very special lady.”

“She is.” Holly cast him a challenging look, as if gauging his tolerance. “I remember one time she thought another guest was hitting on Nelson.”

A peal of laughter sputtered out of Max’s lips.
“What?”

“I know.” Holly rolled her eyes at the memory but the twisting of her lips betrayed her fondness for it. “It seems silly, but she was just convinced this woman was flirting with Nelson. I mean, convinced. She couldn’t let it go. She went after that poor woman in the blueberry patch for asking Nelson to help her find a new bucket. Chased her all the way back to the barn.”

“What about Nelson?”

Holly waved a hand through the air dismissively. “He just stood there and watched. Completely bewildered.”

Max shook his head, wishing he could have been there. “She’s a firecracker.”

Holly tipped her head to the side. Her eyes roamed over his face lazily. “That’s a
very
good description.”