Christmas At Cupid's Hideaway. Connie Lane
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into the Hideaway all by his handsome, unattached self.
Like when Maisie’s stick-her-head-in-the-sand granddaughter was insisting she was doing just fine on her own, thank you very much, and that she didn’t need anyone or anything to make her make her happy or to fill that little hollow spot right where her heart used to be. The spot that had always seemed filled to overflowing when Ben was around.
Meg dashed the thought away and grabbed the brass key chain with the name of the room etched on it. She dangled it in front of Gabe. “You’re lucky there was a cancellation. This room is usually the first one to get booked.” When he didn’t respond to her offer of help with his luggage, she walked around to the other side of the desk and stepped aside so he could start up the stairs ahead of her. It took her a second to realize he hadn’t moved—and that Gabe looked as if someone had pulled the tablecloth magic trick on him, too.
“What did that say?” He pointed at the key chain in her hand. “That key chain, what—”
“There are four of them,” Meg explained. She glanced back to the desk, where the keys hung on their little brass hooks when guests weren’t using them. “One for each room. There’s Smooth Operator, our secret-agent room. And Almost Paradise. That’s sort of a tropical theme, what Maisie likes to call her Garden of Eden room. And then there’s Close to the Heart.” She made a face because although that particular room was popular with guests, it wasn’t her favorite. “Red velvet, lace, plenty of cupids,” she said, as if that would explain it all. “And this one. An experience straight out of the King’s life. Complete with blue suede shoes under the bed.” She tossed the key chain up in the air. “You’re staying in—”
Before Meg could catch it, Gabe reached out and grabbed the key chain. Staring at it, his cheeks went dark and he made a funny, choking sound. “Love Me Tender? You’re kidding, right?”
Meg grinned. “Last room on the island.”
“Right.” His shoulders slumped, Gabe stepped around a display of brightly wrapped packages and started up the winding stairs that led to the second floor and the inn’s guest rooms. “Looks like I’m stuck.”
Stuck?
Stuck was one concept Meg didn’t want to think about. Not when it came to Love Me Tender. Because when she thought about Love Me Tender and she thought about stuck, she just naturally thought about the Crawfords. And thinking about the Crawfords made her all too aware that she was studying every detail of the way Gabe’s jeans were worn and smooth over his backside.
“Not a good idea,” she reminded herself. She shook away the notion as well as the sensations cascading through her. The ones that made her feel as if she’d just gone under a Lake Erie wave and was having trouble coming up for breath.
Truth be told, she knew she’d be better off keeping her gaze on anything but Gabriel Morrison’s rear end.
Which only made her notice exactly where she was still looking.
Meg grumbled a warning to herself. If she wasn’t careful, she’d get trapped by the siren-call of lust and the heady promise of romance.
And that meant she could get stuck, too. Just like she had back in Baltimore when she refused to believe that Ben could be so heartless as to pretend to love her just so he could get his hands on her cooking secrets. She’d been blind. She’d been stupid. And until she came to her senses, what she got in return for trusting him with her heart was a mess of a relationship she should have gotten unstuck from long before.
No way.
No how.
Meg let the words echo through her head, a mantra designed to keep her fantasies at bay.
Stuck, she promised herself, was something she’d never get again.
Chapter Two
“Stuck.”
Gabe couldn’t imagine why, but when he grumbled the word, Meg’s face went a little pale and her steps faltered.
“What’s that you said?” She stopped a couple of feet away and gave him the kind of look he usually reserved for folks on the subway who talked to the empty seats beside them.
“I said stuck.” Gabe rattled the brass knob on the door next to a metal sculpture that took up a good portion of the hallway wall. He knew he had the right room.
As if to reassure himself, he glanced at the artwork. It wasn’t what he expected to find in back-of-beyond Ohio. Quirky, well done, inspired—the sculpture was a one-quarter-size flamingo-pink Cadillac, complete with wide tail fins and enough chrome to make it gleam, even in the muted pink light of the hallway. In honor of the island holiday, a red sack filled with gift-wrapped packages had been tucked in the back seat.
“Love Me Tender.” He read the words painted on the trunk of the car in gleaming black enamel. “It’s the right room, isn’t it? But the door…” Just to show he knew what he was talking about, he turned the handle again and bumped the door to the room with his shoulder. It didn’t budge. “It’s—”
“Stuck. The door. The door to the room is stuck.” Meg breathed a long sigh that did remarkable things to the gauzy, hand-embroidered sundress she was wearing.
The fact that he wondered why she looked so relieved didn’t seem as important to Gabe as the fact that he’d actually noticed the way her breasts pressed against the gossamer fabric, the way her cheeks darkened to a color that nearly matched the glistening stones in her dangling earrings.
So he wasn’t completely brain-dead after all. And if the sudden fire in his blood and the fierce tightening in his gut meant anything, the rest of him was working pretty well, too.
That was enough to cheer him. He might be a man on the edge—of his patience, of his sanity and of what had once been a fulfilling, enjoyable, not to mention lucrative career—but at least all his good sense hadn’t deserted him. He still knew a beautiful woman when he saw one.
“The door of Love Me Tender always sticks.” Good thing Meg didn’t know what he was thinking. Otherwise, she might not have been so quick to hurry over to where Gabe was standing. And if she hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to breathe in the mingled scents of cinnamon and herbs that surrounded her.
“There’s a trick, actually,” she said. To get to the door, she squeezed between Gabe and his luggage. Almost close enough to touch. The air warmed and Gabe’s insides felt a little like they had on the ferry that brought him to the island.
“I should’ve warned you.” For a second, he wondered what she was talking about. Warned him? About the sensation swooping through his insides?
She smiled and pointed to the door before she gave a demonstration that had nothing to do with Gabe’s insides. And everything to do with physics. With a triumphant little smile that made her nose crinkle and brought out a dimple in her left cheek, she turned the shiny brass doorknob at the same time as she lifted it.
The door opened without a hitch.
“Your room.” Meg stood back and made a sweeping gesture toward the room and Gabe grabbed his suitcases and went inside.
“If there’s anything we can get you…” he heard her say from the hallway.
If he hadn’t been so stunned, he might have suggested an ice pack and a couple aspirin.
Gabe deposited his suitcases on the floor and glanced around Love Me Tender. What had he been thinking? That just being with a woman as vivacious and beautiful as Meg was enough to make him forget his troubles?
Well, he could forget about forgetting.
One look at Love Me Tender, one moment over the threshold, and Gabe felt…well…
“All shook up.” He didn’t think he groaned the words loud enough for her to hear until Meg stuck her head back in the room.