'Twas the Week Before Christmas. Olivia Miles
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and that was different. Stephen was five years younger than she and madly in love with his college sweetheart; he was the kid brother she never had. Max, on the other hand, was anything but familiar.
“Oh, just business.”
Business in Maple Woods? On December 19? Holly frowned. Few people came to this small town to conduct business, much less the week before Christmas, but she knew better than to press. Max was being overtly vague and he was, after all, her guest. Most likely personal business, she surmised. He probably had a relative in town that he was visiting for the holidays.
From the industrial-size refrigerator, Holly retrieved the sandwich Stephen had made earlier. She placed the chilled plate on the tray and set about cutting a large wedge of pie that was resting on the butcher’s block. “Do you think this will be enough?” she asked over her shoulder.
“More than enough, thank you.” Max ventured farther into the room and Holly felt her skin tingle. “Now what can I do to help?”
She chuckled nervously. “Oh, just make yourself at home. You’re the guest.”
“Nonsense,” Max said firmly. “I’ve kept you up late, it’s the least I can do. Now tell me. Where do you keep the wine?”
Well, wasn’t he smooth? Holly smiled and resigned herself once more to his natural confidence. He had a real knack for taking control of a situation, and she liked that in a man. With any other guest, she would be appalled to even allow them entrance to the kitchen, but Max was right. It was late. No one was around. And besides, she was starting to have fun. More fun than she probably should have under the circumstances.
“The rack is just behind that pantry door. And the glasses are in the cabinet above the sink.”
Max strode to the wine rack and casually stuck his hands in his pockets as he perused the selection. After a brief deliberation, he made his choice then crossed the room to the cabinet to fetch a glass. With one hand gripping the stem of a second glass he arched an eyebrow and asked, “Will you be joining me?”
Holly hesitated. He was her guest. A handsome one, but a paying one just the same. She should make a polite excuse. She should leave him to enjoy his evening in peace. But one curl of those magnificent lips was all the encouragement she needed.
She picked up the tray and shrugged with a smile. “Why not?”
* * *
“So tell me more about the inn,” Max said. He took a hearty bite of the turkey sandwich, noting that Holly was accurate in her description. Turkey sandwiches usually bored him, but this one was a step above the norm. Like everything else in this place, it seemed. “How did you come about running it?”
“This was my grandmother’s house, actually.” Holly toyed with the stem of her wine glass and forked a bite of pie from the slice on her plate. “When she passed away a little over five years ago, I inherited it. It was much too big for me to live in and since I don’t own the land I wasn’t in a position to sell. I had been working in a hotel in Boston as the special events manager at the time, and I knew this place would make a fantastic bed-and-breakfast.”
Max nodded, absorbing the information and wondering just what to do with it. Perhaps there was a chance that Holly would be eager to move on with her life. A woman of her age and position would surely want to move back to the city at some point. What kind of life would a small town like Maple Woods hold for her? She didn’t appear to have any money of her own other than the revenue from the inn. Max was an astute enough businessman to gauge the earnings of this place, and they were hardly a reason to continue. No, she was running the business for one of two reasons: either she had no other options, which would be great, or because she loved her job.
Max studied her from across the coffee table, noticing the way her rosy, plump lips twisted into a proud smile as she described the renovations that had gone into the house before it could be established as an inn. She gestured with her hands when she talked, underscoring her passion for the place, and despite the trepidation that stirred in his belly, Max couldn’t help but smile as he listened.
God, was she gorgeous. Now, sitting across from her in the dimly lit room, he was able to take the time to really look at her properly, and he found her more alluring than he had even first thought. Draped at her shoulders, her hair appeared darker in this light, and an auburn glow was cast on it from the golden flames crackling in the fireplace. Her deep-set eyes were alive and innocent, twinkling with unabashed excitement as she spoke so passionately about everything that had gone into transforming the original property.
“I’m probably boring you,” she said with only a slightly apologetic smile.
“Not at all,” Max assured her. “It’s nice to see a person so accomplished and passionate.”
Holly’s cheeks burned at the compliment and Max shifted uneasily. It was time to call it a night.
Standing, he heaved a deep, long sigh, but at the sight of Holly standing to collect the plates, his worries shifted to something softer. “Let me.”
“No, no,” she insisted, brushing away his hand. The plates were already loaded onto the tray and Holly stood straight to lock eyes with his. “Don’t worry about it. I have to go by the kitchen anyway to get to my room.”
Her room? Max’s stomach tightened with realization. The thought of it hadn’t even occurred to him, but of course it made sense. Holly lived here. This wasn’t just an inn; it was her home.
“I guess this is good night then.” She stared at him expectantly, a sweet smile on her lips, which were now the center of Max’s focus.
Before he could do anything he would most certainly regret, Max stuck out his hand, accepting Holly’s slim palm into his own. He held it there for a moment, watching as her eyes clouded in confusion, deferring to him as her guest, or perhaps, waiting for him to take the lead. He swallowed hard.
“Good night, Holly.”
Holly gave a small smile. “Good night, Max.”
Reluctantly, he released her small, warm fingers and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. The memory of her touch burned his palm. The fact that he hadn’t wanted to release it made his stomach turn with unease. He turned quickly and walked through the lobby to the stairs, which he took two at a time all the way to the third floor, not daring to turn back once.
Downstairs in this giant house, a young, beautiful woman was cleaning up the dishes from the dinner she had thoughtfully planned just for him. She was probably eager to rest up for another day of working hard at a job she loved.
She had no idea that as of Christmas Day, he would be the sole owner of the property, and that by the first week of January, The White Barn Inn would be torn down.
Chapter Two
The dining room was already buzzing with cheerful conversation by eight o’clock the next morning. There was nothing like a dusting of fresh snow to excite even the calmest of her guests, Holly had noticed over the years. With Christmas already in the air, today was no exception.
Holly smoothed her winter-white cashmere sweater at her hips and glanced around the dining room once more. It was silly, she knew, to be so nervous over the thought of seeing a man—and one of her guests at that—but she couldn’t deny the quiver that zipped down her spine every time she caught a glimpse of a newcomer through the dining room door. He’d be arriving any minute, she was certain, and the anticipation was starting to gnaw at her. She wasn’t quite sure she had ever taken so much time in deciding what to wear to breakfast before, but the little sleep she’d gotten the night before had allowed ample time for hemming and hawing. And primping.
Ridiculous! She scolded herself once more. Max was her guest. A friendly one, yes. A handsome one...absolutely. A charming one... Holly closed her eyes to capture the memory of that lopsided grin. But a guest nonetheless, she reminded herself firmly. And a guest that would be on his way back to the city tomorrow morning.
“Miss