Baby, It’s Cold Outside
Cathy Yardley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my agents, Annelise Robey and

Christina Hogrebe, for being extraordinarily patient.

Thank you!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

Prologue

Sixteen years ago…

“COLIN REESE, YOU disappoint me,” Mrs. Norton, the principal of Tall Pines High School, said with an exaggerated sigh.

Colin shrugged. He’d developed shrugging into a highly complex sign language. This shrug said, I’d love to care, but I really don’t.

“You’re a senior, Colin. I would have thought you were old enough—and mature enough—to have moved beyond these juvenile pranks.”

Colin sent her a slight grin and shrugged again. You’d think, wouldn’t you?

“Defacing school property…” Mrs. Norton patted her hair, making sure her bangs were still lacquered in place, a sign that she was really upset. Colin had been in the principal’s office enough in the past four years to read her like a comic book. “We could have you arrested, Colin.”

“Oh, come on, Mrs. N.,” he protested, the statement outrageous enough to prompt more than a shrug from him. “Putting a statue of Eamon Stanfield in a dress isn’t defacing school property.”

“You made him look like a hooker.”

“No, I made him look like Sexy Mrs. Santa,” Colin corrected, quoting the mail-order catalog. “It’s Christmas. I thought it’d be festive.”

“You put makeup on him,” Mrs. Norton added. “The janitors are having a hard time getting the lipstick off.”

Don’t laugh, he warned himself. His latest prank may have gone a bit too far. “I’ll wash off the old guy myself,” he volunteered.

Mrs. Norton sighed heavily. “You continually pick our town’s most honored and cherished traditions to poke fun at, Colin. Last summer, you put pickled herrings in the planters at the Ladies’ Auxiliary Orchid Show—”

“That was never proved,” Colin said.

“Then there was the incident with the Otter Lodge fountain being filled with Jell-O…”

Colin opened his hands in a gesture of innocence. “Again…”

Mrs. Norton frowned. “And the bronze plaque that had the names of all the town’s founding fathers, including Eamon Stanfield, went mysteriously missing last semester.”

“Hey,” Colin protested, “I had nothing to do with that one. I don’t steal.”

“What I want to know is—when is all this nonsense going to stop, Colin?”

Colin felt a surge of anger. “When I get the hell out of this town.”

Mrs. Norton looked surprised, then supremely saddened. Colin immediately felt like a jerk.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to hurt anybody. I’m blowing off a little steam, that’s all. They’re stupid little jokes, meant to be funny, not destructive. I mean, I see the absurdity in a lot of our traditions, and nobody else seems to.”

“What you see as absurd,” Mrs. Norton said stiffly, standing up, “a lot of us see as sweet and comforting. And every little act of rebellion you commit doesn’t make you look sophisticated. It makes you look mean-spirited and petty.”

Colin grimaced, roiling in his own unhappiness. “I’m sorry,” he apologized—and he meant it.

“I’m suspending you for a week, Colin.”

He nodded. He’d been expecting that. “I’ll head on home.”

“No, you’ll wait here,” she said. “Your mother’s on her way to pick you up.”

“My mother?” He winced. “Why? I just live a few blocks away.”

“I had to call her, Colin.” Now Mrs. Norton seemed smug. “Besides, I wanted to talk about plans for the Spring Fling and then the grad-night party, since she’s head of the committee.”

Of course she is, Colin thought and wallowed in his misery.

“She was very, very upset to hear what you’d done to the statue,” Mrs. Norton added. “I imagine she’ll have some words for you when she gets here.”

He nodded unhappily. Some words. A mild way to put what promised to be a very unpleasant episode.

He sat out in the lobby of the administrative office wearing his best trademark scowl.

“Oh, Colin,” Ruthie, the front-office secretary, said with a small shake of her head. “How can such a sweet kid get into so much trouble?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t giggle just a little seeing Eamon Stanfield all tarted up,” he coaxed.

Ruthie glanced at the principal’s office, making sure the door was closed. Then she broke out into a wide grin. “It was funny,” she admitted. “Especially since, from what I understand, Eamon Stanfield would keel over dead before wearing ladies’ clothes.”

Colin grinned back. “Exactly.”

“Which is why we’re in so much trouble.” Ruthie sighed.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Before he could get an answer, the door opened. A young girl, about sixteen years old, walked in. She was wearing a navy-blue plaid pleated skirt with a big safety pin in it and a moss-green sweater set. She was also wearing stylish boots—a nod to the weather. Her pale cheeks were rosy from the cold, and she wore her long auburn hair in a simple ponytail.

“Hi, Ruthie,” she said. “Just wanted to drop off the money for the Spring Fling fund-raiser from the booster club. We raised even more this year than we did last year.”

“Emily, you are a doll,” Ruthie said with approval, taking the envelope. Then she looked pointedly at Colin. “Never in here for any trouble.”

“I know,” Emily replied. If Colin didn’t know better, he’d think she sounded annoyed by the comment.

Ruthie’s voice dropped. “Is your father still upset about the…statue incident?”

Colin sank lower in his seat. Emily Stanfield. Of course he knew her. She was only a living, breathing legacy of Tall Pines, Connecticut. Her family had been in the town since the beginning; it was her great-grandfather’s statue that he’d dressed up in the red minidress. She was on almost every committee or volunteer organization imaginable. As a sophomore, she’d already been voted onto the homecoming court. She might as well have an entire wardrobe with I Love Tall Pines emblazoned on it in big sparkly letters. Like all her forebears, she’d probably live in this little town till she died.

She was the complete opposite of Colin, the angel to his devil. She even looked angelic. Which might explain why he couldn’t stop staring at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. He chalked it up to a perverse fascination—as if by studying her he could figure out how she avoided the frustration and rebelliousness that the town of Tall Pines seemed to invoke in him on a daily basis.

Emily nodded. “I told my father it was a senior prank.” She shot a quick glance over at Colin, her blue eyes meeting his green ones. “I said it was a tradition. He’s still sort of steamed, but he’s calming down.”

“So…no police?” Ruthie said.

“No police,” Emily assured her, and Colin felt his muscles unknot with relief. Then she shot him another glance, only this time the smallest ghost of a smile haunted her lips.

He found himself smiling back with approval. She was awfully cute for a sophomore. Not to mention cute for a Tall Pines poster child.

“Colin Reese, are you insane?”

He blinked, wondering the same thing himself, although he was still staring at Emily as he thought it. He turned his attention to the woman yelling at him. “Mom?”

His mother stormed into the lobby, looking like the Angel of Vengeance in a lavender-blue pantsuit. “I have had it with you, mister,” she said sharply. “I swear, if you weren’t so close to graduation, I’d send you off to…to military school!”

He sighed. This was going to be a bad one, he could tell.

“You’re coming with me.” She held the door open. “And you wait till your father gets home!”

Colin sighed, rolling his eyes. Ruthie sent him a look of sympathy. Emily, he noticed, had a mischievous smile. Then, to his shock, she winked at him.

Which was why he was smiling as his mother yanked on his arm and dragged him out the door. He barely heard her as she launched into yet another tirade on the problems with his behavior and why couldn’t he be more like his sister and brother and why in the world he had a problem with the small town.

“For God’s sake, Colin,” she said, exasperated, “can’t you think of one thing, just one thing, that represents Tall Pines that you don’t feel like mocking and making fun of?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking hard.

Emily Stanfield, his mind supplied. Given the chance, he got the feeling he’d take her very, very seriously. But he couldn’t admit that, so he stayed silent and let his mother continue her litany. He’d be out of here by June, anyway, and then all of this, including Emily Stanfield, would be a thing of the past.

EMILY WATCHED AS Colin Reese stalked off, his mother lecturing him in a growing crescendo of chastisement.

“That kid.” Ruthie let out a long breath. “It’s hard to believe he’s Ava Reese’s son, you know?”

Emily didn’t say anything, although she knew what Ruthie meant.

“So have you decided who you’re going to the Spring Fling with, Emily?” Ruthie asked.

Emily cleared her throat. “Not yet,” she said. “Too busy, and it’s not for months yet.”

“Still dating that Rothchild boy?”

It was funny, Emily thought. Ruthie knew about everybody in the school. Granted, it wasn’t that big a school, but Emily wondered halfheartedly if the kind woman didn’t have better things to do with her time than track the little social dramas of teenagers.

“I wasn’t really dating him,” Emily demurred, her voice almost prim. “Anyway, I’d better get going. Don’t want to be late for Biology.”

She fled the office, heading up the hallway. She couldn’t stop thinking about Colin.

She’d had a crush on him for years, since she’d been in elementary school. It wasn’t just that he was good-looking, although he was—devastatingly so. It was that he was so…reckless. Daring. He’d been voted Most Likely to Do Anything two years in a row by the yearbook committee. He was in trouble a lot, but she also knew that he was very sweet—she’d seen a bunch of bullies picking on a younger girl because of her thick glasses and braces, and Colin had sent the bullies away with the mere threat of physical violence. He’d then made sure the girl was all right, saying a few quick words and sending her a lightning-fast smile. The girl had stared dreamily at Colin, and so had Emily, touched by his thoughtfulness.

It was silly. Everyone knew that Colin was practically building a tunnel to get out of Tall Pines, and Emily doubted she’d ever leave. But it didn’t stop her from dreaming.

1

“SO IS HE HERE YET?”

Emily Stanfield smiled coyly at her best friend, Sue. “You’re the desk manager. You tell me.”

Sue made a face. “I knew I should’ve stayed at the inn. That way I could’ve called you when he checked in.”

Emily shook her head. “Impossible. First of all, this is Ava Reese’s annual Secret Santa party we’re at. It’s more than a tradition, it’s an institution. We couldn’t miss it.” Much as she’d wanted to this year.

Sue sighed. “True, true.”

“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.

“My mother’s been asking me why I haven’t gotten married yet,” he said. “At every. Single. Meal.”

Emily’s eyes widened. Then she laughed—a soft, rich sound that made him feel as though he’d just been brushed by mink.

“Knowing Ava, I can only imagine. I love her, but she is…” She grinned mischievously. “Shall we say, persistent.”

“As a Sherman tank.”

She looked up at the ceiling as if mentally debating something. Then she sighed. “Okay, tell you what—I converted the attic to my own private apartment,” she said. “You can crash on my couch for tonight. But just for tonight. Tomorrow we’ll think of something else.”

Gratitude washed over him. “I owe you for this. Big-time.”

She nodded absently, then went back to the desk. “I’m going to have Mr. Reese here stay with me,” she said, and Colin watched as a look of calculation and a slow smirk crossed the clerk’s face.

“On her couch,” Colin emphasized.

“Of course,” Phillip returned blandly.

“One other thing, Phillip?” Emily asked, her voice going soft. “Did a J. P. Webster check in?”

“At around six,” Phillip said. “Room five.”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

There was an edge of excitement in her voice, Colin noticed. Unexpectedly he felt irritation. Who the hell was J. P. Webster? And why did she suddenly sound so thrilled?

“Colin, why don’t you follow me and I’ll get you settled in.”

Colin followed her to a small private elevator, taking it up to her apartment. It was roomier than he’d expected. There was a small kitchen, a living room, a bathroom and the bedroom. There was even a small fireplace. It was well decorated and obviously expensive, but it still looked cozy and inviting. To his surprise, he felt tension start to ebb out of his body.

“This is it,” she said artlessly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to change really quickly, then I need to go downstairs for a while. Business.”

But that breathless quality in her voice suggested it had nothing to do with business. That irritation that Colin had felt before doubled.

“Mind if I light a fire?” he asked to give himself something to do besides ruminate on what exactly her business might be.

“Please do,” she said before shutting the bedroom door behind her.

Within minutes he had a small fire going in the hearth. The room smelled like spiced apple cider. He’d probably be asleep in minutes, he realized. He hadn’t felt this relaxed since he’d returned to Tall Pines.

He heard the bedroom door open and he turned. “I can’t thank you enough…”

His words died on his lips.

She’d changed, all right.

Emily’s hair tumbled in loose auburn waves, dancing slightly below her shoulders. She was wearing a rich red velvet robe with Stanfield Arms embroidered on the crest. He wondered absently if she was wearing anything under the robe.

Just like that, his body went hard as steel and all thoughts of sleep fled. He bit back a groan. “That must be some business.”

Her ivory cheeks flooded with color, and she avoided his gaze. “It’s nine o’clock at night. I just want to make sure that one of my…special guests…is comfortable.”

Colin didn’t say a word.

“Sheets, blankets and pillows are in the cupboard in the hallway there.” She pointed, still not looking at him. “The fridge is stocked if you’re hungry, and if you need anything, just dial eight for the front desk.”

“When will you be back?” he asked.

Finally she met his gaze.

The heat in her eyes could have set the room on fire.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” she said quietly. “So don’t wait up.”

IT WAS RISKY. Possibly even stupid, Emily thought as she belted her robe tighter around her waist. But she was going to do it anyway.

She was going to J. P. Webster’s room wearing only a silk shortie nightgown and one of the hotel robes and—if everything went perfectly—she was going to have sex.

She could only imagine what Colin was thinking of her little announcement. She’d done everything but say, “Make yourself at home, I’m off to get laid.” The look he’d given her as she’d shut the door was one of shock mixed with something else she couldn’t quite identify. She hoped it wasn’t shame on her behalf. Still, Colin was a world-famous hotshot architect now, and if rumors were true, he had romanced women all over the continent. Several continents, actually, if his mother’s complaints were to be believed. “Always with a different girl every month,” she’d griped loudly at the last Otter Lodge pancake breakfast. “Last month, a lawyer from Hong Kong…the month before, a model from Brazil….” So she’d be damned if she let herself be judged by Mr. Commitmentphobic, especially since this was going to be her first fling ever.

Emily felt heat on her cheeks. She was blushing. She knew it.

Please, please let him be cute and let me go through with this. She couldn’t face another restless night. She wanted to feel the delicious release that only a man could provide—even if it was only temporary.

She got to room five and knocked on the door. “J.P.?”

The door opened slowly. She took a deep breath.

A beautiful blond woman, also in a robe, was standing there. “Can I help you?”

Emily goggled momentarily. This she hadn’t anticipated.

“I’m sorry.” Of course he would have brought his girlfriend! God, I’m an idiot! “I was looking for J. P. Webster. I didn’t mean for it to be so late….”

“That’s quite all right,” the woman said genially. “You’ve found her.”

“Her?”

“J.P. stands for Joy Patricia. My friends call me Joy.” She held out her hand, and, dumbstruck, Emily shook it. “I’m sorry…what’s your name?”

“Oh. Right. I’m Emily Stanfield, the owner of the hotel.” And a moron. “I just wanted to stop by and make sure that you had everything you needed.”

Unfortunately J.P. did not have anything Emily needed.

“Emily! It’s so nice to finally meet you in person. And thank you again for suggesting I stay at your inn instead of spending the holiday alone while my family was in Bermuda. I got in and fell in love with this place,” Joy enthused, seeming not to notice Emily’s discomfort. “It’s everything you said it was and more.”

“Well, that is high praise,” Emily said. “And I’m glad it’s made such a good impression. I’m sure you’re exhausted. I’ll just say good night and let you sleep….”

“Are you sure you didn’t want to hang out, talk shop?” Joy asked.

Emily shook her head. Considering the real reason she’d come down, she doubted she could spend the evening discussing linen-use rates and remodel tips. “Just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“I love these robes, by the way,” Joy said, rubbing her hand over the sleeve. “I see you do, too.”

Emily was blushing again. “Normally I don’t meet business associates dressed this casually,” she said, hugging her arms and making sure her robe was still tight around her. “But I was, er, about to go to bed.”

“I see.” Emily could have sworn she saw a glimmer of humor in the woman’s eyes. “Well, good night, then.”

“Good night,” Emily echoed, then turned and made her escape.

She got in the elevator, turning the key for the top floor…and then froze.

Oh, great. Bad enough that she’d just had one of the most humiliating mistakes of her life. Now, she had Colin Reese to deal with.

When the door opened, he was making up a makeshift bed on the sofa in pajama bottoms and nothing else.

He looked good enough to eat.

All the frustration that had been building up and threatening to explode, especially in the past few months, seemed to bubble to the surface at the look of his half-naked body. Her hands itched to stroke over all that chiseled chest.

Thankfully she had the fiasco with Joy/J.P. still stinging her ego or she’d probably do something she’d regret. Like jump him.

He glanced at her, puzzled. “Forget something?”

“No,” she responded coolly. “I got finished sooner than I thought. Now I’m tired and I’m going to bed.”

Colin smirked at her. “How’d business go?”

“Fine.” Damn him for bringing it up.

He studied her as she stepped in front of him. Then he put a hand out, surprising her by touching her shoulder gently.

“You look sort of upset.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated. She ran her fingers through her hair, a gesture of frustration. “That is, I will be fine.”

“Listen, I’ve been really stressed this week,” he said. “I noticed you had a bottle of wine, but I didn’t want to open it, especially just for me. Care to join me?”

She hesitated. “I really shouldn’t,” she murmured as she breathed in some of his woodsy-smelling cologne.

“Just to unwind a bit,” he coaxed. “It’ll help you sleep.”

Emily laughed at that. Sit next to this unbelievably sexy half-dressed man, drinking wine in front of a crackling fire…and he thought that was going to make her drowsy?

He had to be joking.

He stroked her arm, distracting her. “Come on. One glass.”

“Just one,” she heard herself say and then found herself sitting on the couch.

Oh, this is such a very stupid idea.

Colin went into the kitchen, opened the fridge and got out the light pinot grigio that she’d been chilling. He poured two glasses and handed her one, sitting next to her.

“Aren’t you, uh, cold?” she said, nodding at his bare chest. If this kept up, she’d be blushing a permanent pink.

“Huh? Oh. I got sort of hot building the fire up.” He glanced at her. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

Uncomfortable is one word for it, she thought. “I wouldn’t want you to get a chill.”

He let loose one of those slow, sexy smiles. “Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I did an eighteen-month build in Iceland once. I don’t think I’ll ever feel cold again.”

She let her gaze dip down to his washboard stomach…and then lower still, to the dark blue flannel pajama pants.

No doubt about it. The man was definitely hot.

Emily took a sip of wine so hastily she choked on it. “So will the couch be comfortable enough?” she asked when her throat cleared. “You look pretty big.” His eyes widened, and she realized he’d caught exactly where she’d been looking a moment ago. “I mean broad. That is, tall. Well-proportioned!”

He chuckled.

“Oh, hell,” she said and drained the glass, barely noticing when he poured her some more. “I am not usually this stupid. I’ve just had a rough night.”

“Do tell,” he invited, taking a swallow of wine and then putting the glass down on the coffee table.

She surveyed him over the rim of her glass. “I barely even know you.”

“And yet you’re letting me sleep with you—in a manner of speaking,” he said, causing her to laugh. “So what happened?”

She took a deep breath. What the hell. It wasn’t as if he was really a citizen of Tall Pines, anyway. “Promise to keep it a secret?”

He made a gesture of crossing his heart, then held up his fingers in the Boy Scout salute.

“Okay. I was planning on having an affair tonight.” She said it quickly, all in one breath.

He let out a low whistle. “That explains the robe.” he said. She felt the heat of his gaze trace over its contours. It felt wonderful—and after the Joy incident, was a gratifying balm to her injured ego. “With whom, if I might ask?”

“An out-of-towner, someone I’ve been in correspondence with,” she said, shaking her head. The wine was warming her, she thought, letting herself sink back into the plush cushions of her sofa. Or was it the company? “Anyway, it was a disaster.”

“What, was he ugly or something?”

“Worse,” she replied, finishing her wine and putting her empty glass down. “He was a woman.”

Colin choked, then burst into laughter. Reluctantly Emily joined in.

“Serves me right for building up a fantasy around someone I haven’t even met. It seemed like a good idea in theory. Unfortunately the theory got shot to hell.”

“Why did you decide to sleep with someone you didn’t even know?”

“Let’s just say it’s been a while.” She sighed, feeling embarrassment start to swell up again. “And I thought an out-of-towner would be less, you know, complicated.”

He nodded. “This town. A fling with a resident would be like having a fling in the gazebo in the square, complete with the high school band playing accompaniment.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, grateful that he understood.

“So now what are you going to do?” He leaned back, as well, resting his chin on one arm. He looked devastatingly handsome with his hair falling rakishly over one eye. Like some kind of mischievous sex god.

She swallowed, trying to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. “I have no idea, honestly.” Emily closed her eyes, smiling ruefully. “If some gorgeous out-of-town hunk decides to stay and seduce me, maybe I’ll let him. We’ll both have a great weekend or whatever and then he’ll go on his merry way and I’ll go on mine. But I think I’m done attempting to plan for it. If it happens, it happens.”

“Very philosophical.”

She stood up, noticing that her robe had come a little undone. She tightened the belt again. “Thanks, Colin,” she said. “It’s funny, but I really do feel a lot better. I appreciate that.”

He stood, too. “No problem.”

“Good night.” Emily had started to turn and walk away when he stopped her again with a hand on her shoulder. She turned back.

Without warning, he leaned forward, kissing her with slow, deliberate, almost overwhelming intensity. His mouth was firm and hot and amazingly mobile. He didn’t assault her. Rather, he coaxed her. And before she realized what was going on, she was kissing him back with equal desire.

Her passion leaped to life. She clutched his shoulders, reveling in the feel of the muscles bunching beneath her fingertips. His tongue swept through her mouth, tracing the outline of her lips before tangling with her tongue. She moaned softly.

He pulled away, almost as out of breath as she was.

“Just thought you should know,” he rasped. “Technically I’m from out of town.”

The sentence was like a slap, bringing her temporarily dormant conscience to life. What are you doing? This is Ava Reese’s son! This is the guy who couldn’t even remember who you were a few hours ago!

“Sorry,” she breathed, taking a careful step back. “Technically isn’t going to cut it. And I’ve made enough of a fool of myself for one night.”

With that, Emily beat a hasty retreat to her bedroom, locking the door—not for her sexual safety but for his.

2

“MERRY CHRISTMAS, Uncle Colin!” his nieces and nephews chirped.

“Merry Christmas,” he answered, taking a long swallow of his coffee and trying desperately to jump-start his sluggish system. It was nine o’clock Christmas morning, and he was dragging.

He’d spent the past two nights on Emily Stanfield’s couch and had managed to get perhaps one hour’s worth of sleep total, it seemed. While comfortable, it was still a couch—and worse, a couch that put him approximately seven feet away from Emily Stanfield.

Ever since his first night they’d been the picture of civility, and the only words they’d exchanged were pleasantries and logistics: “Good morning,” “Do you need a key?” or “Please help yourself to breakfast in the dining room.”

It was torture.

“What is wrong with you?” his mother asked as she put a plate of her famous Denver omelet and hash browns in front of him. “You’re acting like a zombie. You’re not sleeping well at that hotel, are you?”

“No, it’s fine,” he lied. “I’ve just been preoccupied.”

“I knew she shouldn’t have opened that inn,” Ava fretted. “That lovely home, opened up to God-knows-who. Really a shame.”

“She’s done a great job with the place,” Colin said. “I’ve stayed in a lot of hotels, and hers is top-of-the-line.”

“Humph.” His mother sounded unconvinced. “Well, her father’s probably turning in his grave. You know how much Tall Pines and its traditions meant to him.”

“Yeah.” Then, without looking up from his French toast, Colin added, “Seems to me Emily is something of a traditionalist, too.”

His mother didn’t notice his sudden curiosity, thankfully. “Oh, she’s still a Stanfield,” she said, as if that explained everything. “She knows her duty. She’s on the Garden Club Committee, the Easter Committee, she helps plan the Otter Lodge festivals and parties.” She smirked, nudging his father. “She’s dating the mayor, you know.”

Colin’s eyes widened. “Actually, no, I didn’t know that.” And it was something of an unpleasant surprise, he realized as he felt temper start to simmer in his bloodstream. Was she hiding it from him? And what about that whole sob story about not being intimate for a long time? “How long have they been together?”

“Well, now, I wouldn’t exactly say they’re together,” his father corrected.

“Perhaps not technically. But they’re perfect for each other,” his mother continued, frowning at his father. “It’s only a matter of time.”

Colin instantly felt at ease. It was matchmaking, not an actual relationship.

Which meant Emily was still available.

And why exactly does that matter to you? She’s already shot you down once, and you’re only in town till tomorrow, anyway.

It was dumb. But for whatever reason, Emily’s availability did matter to him.

“Enough about that,” his mother said, sitting down next to him at the kitchen table. “So. You’re single again.”

He sighed, finishing a last forkful of the savory breakfast like a man enjoying his last meal. “Alas, yes.”

“You’re not thinking of marrying a French girl, are you? That’s an awfully long way to travel for a wedding.” She brightened. “Unless she’d like to live here.”

His father chuckled. “In which case, you have our blessings, sight unseen.”

Colin rolled his eyes. His father understood his mother’s relentless nature and obviously sympathized with his son, but he also knew enough to stay out of it. After all, the man had to live here. “I’m still a bit young to worry about marriage, Mom.”

“You’re thirty-four,” she corrected. “Before you blink, you’ll be forty, and that’s going to be hell on your system when you get to 2:00 a.m. feedings.”

“Let me worry about the wife first,” he grumbled, “before stressing about our kids.”

“You need someone who can give you the stability and comfort of small-town living,” she said. “I know that you haven’t always enjoyed living in Tall Pines….”

Understatement of the year, he thought, taking another jolt of coffee.

“But I can’t help but think you’re not giving it a chance. Just like you’re not giving marriage a chance.” She crossed her arms.

This was more than her usual pestering, he noted. She was genuinely upset.

He sighed again. “Mom, we’ve had this conversation before,” he said quietly. “I love you, and I’m glad you and the rest of the family want me to be settled and happy. But I need to travel. I need adventure. I can’t explain it,” he finished miserably. “It’s not that I don’t want to be happy. I seem to need…I don’t know…something I can’t find.”

“Well, maybe you haven’t been looking in the right places,” she pointed out.

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. On top of very little sleep, this conversation was more than he could handle. “Let’s watch the kids play with their toys, okay? I’m only in town till tomorrow morning—I’d like to enjoy it.”

“Maybe,” his mother continued with her trademark determination, “you could even look right here. Locally, I mean.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he snapped. “I’ll just go and marry Emily Stanfield tomorrow and give you a dozen more grandbabies, how about that?”

“Colin, don’t be ridiculous,” she chided. “There’s no need to be snide.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m a little tired.”

“Besides, Emily’s not right for you,” she said in a tactful tone.

Colin blinked. That wasn’t the response he was expecting.

“She means Emily wouldn’t have you in a million years.” His brother Ted entered the conversation. “Mom, where are the batteries? Kasey’s remote-control pony needs them.”

“Well, that’s insulting,” Colin said. “What’s wrong with me?”

“She’s small-town right down to her marrow,” his father pointed out. “And as is painfully evident to everyone including yourself, you’re nothing of the sort. Beyond that, she’s known for being somewhat discriminating when it comes to beaus.”

Even his father thought Emily would have nothing to do with him?

Well, if their kiss was any indication, she might not want to marry him, but she certainly approved of some aspects of him.

Of course, she did turn you down.

He grimaced.

“She wouldn’t be your type, anyway,” his mother continued, her tone obviously meant to soothe the affront. “And like I said, she’s dating the mayor.”

“She isn’t dating him,” Colin growled.

His mother’s eyebrow went up quizzically. He could just imagine her maternal-matrimonial radar beeping to life.

Damn it. “Listen, all this talk about marriage and stuff is giving me the heebie-jeebies,” he said. “I don’t mean to be cranky. I’ll be on my best behavior. I just want to play with the kids and enjoy my family on the holiday, before I have to go. Okay?”

She sighed, finally relenting. “All right,” she agreed, hugging his shoulders. “But I wouldn’t pester you so much if you didn’t worry me, kiddo.”

“I know,” he told her, hugging her back as they went over to the living room.

They watched the kids enjoy their presents all morning, and by lunch Colin was feeling more like himself. However, he had a new problem to deal with.

“It’s been ages since I’ve been over to the hotel,” his mother said. “You never mentioned—how’s your room?”

“Great.” Which was true. “Very comfortable.”

“Queen-size bed or king?”

He had no idea. “Er…queen.”

“She’s a good manager, from what I’ve heard. A very hard worker. She’s been obsessed with the place ever since…” His mother paused, frowning. “I’m sorry. You’re probably bored with Tall Pines gossip.”

But when it came to Emily, Colin was hanging on every word. “Ever since what?” he asked.

She smiled the satisfied smile of a storyteller who knows she’s got her audience hooked. “Ever since her father died and her mother remarried shortly afterward,” she said dramatically. “Her mother told her that she’d sell the place because she was tired of upholding the Stanfield family traditions. There was no way Emily could manage a building that size by herself, but she knew her father would have hated to lose it. So she came up with a plan to use her trust fund and turn it into a hotel.”

Colin was riveted. “That’s a lot of work.”

“I didn’t agree with it,” his mother said. “It’s not the same, having the Stanfield house open to strangers. Paying customers.”

“What was she supposed to do?” Colin defended. “Give up and get rid of it?”

His mother wrinkled her nose. “Well, if she’d gotten married to someone rich, she could’ve kept the house.”

Of course marriage would be the solution his mother came up with.

“She was engaged, you know,” she added. “Years ago. To Richard Gaines.”

“That jackass?”

She glared at him. “Language, please.”

Colin fell silent, but he was still shocked. Ricky Gaines was a jerk. A rich jerk, granted, but still a complete waste of space.

“They were engaged as soon as she graduated from Amherst,” she said. “But they never did get married. The town was pretty divided on who was at fault.”

“So what was your vote?” It was unheard of for Ava Reese not to have an opinion.

“I say he was.” She sniffed. “Since he got married and had his first baby a few short months after. Some rich blond girl from Boston. Of course, if Emily had been a bit more attentive when they were dating, he might not have strayed, but that’s neither here nor there. Richard and his new family lived here for a year, and it was very awkward for Emily.”

Poor Emily, Colin thought. No wonder she didn’t want to get involved with anybody from town.

His mother put her hand over his. “She’s a lovely girl, and I’ve always felt like the right person might help make her happier. She always seems sad to me, for some reason.”

He’d noticed that, as well. “Poor kid.”

His mother sighed. “She could use a good husband.”

Colin had to change the topic away from marriage—and Emily—in a hurry. “You know,” he finally said, “I thought maybe I’d stay here. One last night with you guys.” Even though the cot was even less comfortable than the couch, it would probably do wonders for his peace of mind. He’d been fixated on Emily for long enough.

“Oh, we’ll miss you, but I think you had the best idea,” his mother said breezily. “It’s far too crowded here with your brother and your sister and the grandkids. As long as you have the room at the inn, you might as well stay, right?”

“I suppose.”

“You know,” she added speculatively, “you’re right.”

Colin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He knew that look on his mother’s face. “I’m right how?”

“Emily isn’t dating the mayor yet,” she said, smiling mischievously.

He saw the light of hope in her eyes…and calculation.

Oh crap.

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.

“The more I thought about it, the more I realized—you are an out-of-towner.”

He shifted uncomfortably, remembering his early exchange with his family. Emily Stanfield was small-town to her bones. Wholesome values, dedication to her community. Tall Pines to the core.

And you’re not.

Her seductive smile slipped, revealing an expression of concern. “You’re worried because I turned you down before, aren’t you?” she said softly. “I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” he reassured her, unconsciously moving closer. “It’s not that. In fact, I think you were right. We probably shouldn’t sleep together.”

Her eyes snapped, a luminescent blue, fierce as a welding arc. “Why don’t you think we should?”

Now she was the one who sounded hurt. He stroked her hair, trying to take the sting out of his statement. “The same reasons you had. I’m not quite out-of-town enough…and the good people of Tall Pines would have a field day if they found out.”

“Who were you planning on telling?”

“What?” he asked, startled. “I wouldn’t tell anybody.”

“Neither would I,” she said, and he watched, hypnotized, as her hand trailed down and untied her robe. It fell open to reveal a deep-cherry-red silk teddy edged in white lace. “It’s nobody’s business but ours, Colin. Nobody else needs to know.”

His body went hard in a rush. No Christmas morning had ever held more promise than this moment, with this beautiful woman offering herself up as if she were every toy that he’d ever wanted in his entire life.

But she’s not a toy. And he couldn’t treat her like one.

“I’m leaving in the morning, Emily,” Colin said carefully, even though his voice was rough with desire.

“I know,” she answered. Was he imagining it or was there a thread of regret in her voice? “But we still have tonight.”

His body was clamoring for her, his heart beating double time, his cock harder than a steel girder. Were it any other woman, he’d have bridged the distance between them five minutes ago. If she were any other woman, they’d be well on their way to making it a very memorable night indeed.

Of course, if it were any other woman, he’d wake up in the morning and leave without a second thought. But it was Emily—and for whatever reason, he sensed that leaving her would cause a lot more repercussions than that. She deserved better than to be a one-night stand, one on a list of fond memories.

On the other hand, he had the sinking feeling that Emily Stanfield was not the type of woman he’d forget easily. And that caused a whole different kind of problem.

He sat on the couch, frozen in indecision.

She made a small sigh of irritation and then scooted closer, shrugging out of the robe. Emily had freckles on her shoulders, he noticed—a pale sprinkling. She leaned forward. “What time do you have to leave?” she whispered, her breath tickling the sensitive spot just below his ear.

“N-nine,” he stammered, struggling against another tidal wave of lust.

“That gives us hours,” she breathed, brushing a tiny kiss against his collarbone. He groaned. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

Colin couldn’t help himself. His hands moved forward, his fingertips caressing her long, swanlike neck, then smoothing down the petal-soft skin of her shoulders. His mouth consumed hers in a sensual assault, teasing her for only the briefest of moments before simply devouring her. He could hear her muffled cries of longing, feel the way her hands bunched in the fabric of his shirt, clutching him as if she couldn’t bear to let him go.

Did he position himself on top of her or did she pull him? He felt drunk on the taste of her, dizzy with it. He hazily registered the length of her body beneath his…the way her breasts crushed against his chest, the heat from between her thighs warming his jean-clad erection. Her quick fingers tugged his shirt out of his waistband, then found the naked skin beneath. With a low, unbelievably sexy growl, her hands rubbed up against his bare back, then with gentle insistence she drew her oval nails down his bare skin, causing him to shudder with need. He tore his mouth from hers for a second, gasping for air, fighting for control.

“Oh, Colin,” she panted. “No matter what happens after this, I want you.”

In that second, her statement pierced his desire-soaked consciousness long enough to force him to pause. With superhuman effort he rolled off her, practically falling to the rug. “Damn it,” he said, rubbing his hand over his face. “Damn it!”

“What?” she asked, her eyes wide, her voice breathless. “What’s wrong?”

“This. Us.” He closed his eyes, and a litany of curses rolled through his mind. “You said no matter what happens after this. You know this is going to be complicated.”

She huffed. “Maybe. But if anything did happen, I’d deal with it.” She sent him a shaky grin. “So far, you’re more than worth any consequences.”

While the compliment only threw more fuel on the fire of lust snaking through his system, he grimaced. “In other words, you don’t care what the fallout winds up being if this leaks out.”

“Basically.”

He frowned. “Wouldn’t you resent me for just leaving you holding the bag?”

“Colin, not to be callous,” she said, rolling her eyes, “but even if I hated you for it…honestly, what difference would it make? You wouldn’t be here to see it. And what are the odds we’re going to see each other again so you’d have to deal with them or me?”

Now, of all the things she’d said, that stopped him cold. She was offering every man’s dream—no-strings-attached, smokin’ hot sex without the need for so much as a phone call after. And he wouldn’t make it back to Tall Pines until next Thanksgiving at the earliest, so he would miss any repercussions.

So why did it feel so damned wrong?

“I know you think you mean this, Emily,” he said as neutrally as possible. “But you’ve admitted you haven’t had sex in a while. And I’ll bet you haven’t had sex with all that many people in your life, period. Am I right?”

She didn’t say anything, just drew her full, pouty lips into a tight line.

He was right. He knew he was right.

“I just think,” he continued reluctantly, “that when this is all over, you’re going to regret saying yes. Maybe for a long, long time.”

There. He’d done it. He was listening to his conscience rather than his body, for once in his life.

Emily stared at him, studying him. She seemed to almost crackle with an aura of frustration and need. Then she stood up, stalking back to her bedroom and shutting the door.

He swallowed the rest of his champagne without tasting it. Despite his various love affairs, sex wasn’t something he took lightly—and anything related to Tall Pines was a time bomb. He still felt guilty over the stupid stuff he’d done when he was a kid. He wasn’t about to compound it by doing stupid stuff as an adult.

He’d probably done the wise thing, although he couldn’t help but…

Suddenly the door swung open.

Emily stepped out, totally, gloriously naked.

He stared at her in wonder. Her lithe limbs stretched gracefully from her perfectly proportioned torso. Her waist nipped in before curving out into gently flared hips, and her full breasts were tipped by luscious raspberry-hued nipples that puckered appetizingly with arousal. She stroked one hand over the flat planes of her stomach, stopping just short of the thatch of auburn curls at the juncture of her thighs.

“I do want you,” she said quietly. “I do know what I want. And I can make my own decisions, thanks very much.”

He was taut as a bowstring, barely registering her words. She looked like an avenging goddess—one that, even if it cost him his life, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from.

“Now I’m going to my bed,” she said. “I’m waiting for you there. And I can guarantee the only thing you’d regret would be saying no.”

She turned, her saucy teardrop-shaped derriere making him groan out loud. Then she glanced over her shoulder.

“And, trust me, you’d regret it for the rest of your life.” Neatly tossing his words back at him, she disappeared into her bedroom but left the door wide-open.

Colin wasn’t made of stone—though it felt like it. And he sure as hell wasn’t a saint.

He paused for all of a second before following her soft footsteps. It might not be the wisest move, but as far as his body was concerned, there was no way he was leaving this place without giving one last, thorough, phenomenal Christmas present to Emily Stanfield.

3

EMILY WAS SHAKING by the time she’d made it to her bed. It had taken all her courage to make that dramatic speech. She’d never acted so cavalier about sex before, especially considering Colin had called it right on the money—she’d only had sex with two other people in her entire life. She wanted him, though, and she knew that if she didn’t act as if she could coolly handle a one-night stand, he was principled enough and compassionate enough to never touch her. So she’d put on a very convincing act.

Obviously sexual frustration was making her brave, not to mention revealing talents she didn’t even know she had. On the other hand, it might also be making her stupid.

Colin stepped into her room and she held her breath.

But this is going to be worth it.

He closed the door behind him. The bedroom was lit with candles, a multitude of votives washing the pale green walls with a warm glow. She had no silk sheets to trot out—her thick comforter and flannel sheets were meant to keep her toasty during the bitter winter nights.

She got the feeling staying warm would not be an issue tonight.

Besides, the last thing he seemed interested in was his surroundings. He only had eyes for her, and she shivered—not from any chill in the air but from the intensity of his gaze.

Emily leaned back on the bed, forcing herself not to cover up her body with her arms. She felt a delicious rush of anticipation roll through her and she rubbed her legs together, the friction lessening as her body began to get wet at the mere thought of him.

He took off his shirt, and she smiled in appreciation of the purely masculine beauty of his torso. His muscles bunched and flexed as he removed the rest of his clothes. When he stripped out of his boxers, she couldn’t help but goggle a little. It had been a while, after all, since she’d seen a naked man, much less one in all his erect glory.

He smiled. “Stop it. You’ll make me blush.”

She wanted to toss back some witty comment, but words seemed lodged in her throat. Instead she put her arms out, inviting him.

Colin spread out next to her on the flannel sheets, kicking the covers out of the way. He felt like a furnace, and she warmed herself against him, shuddering at the slide of skin over skin. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder. His hand stroked gently over her hip before sliding up and cupping her breast.

She gasped softly as sensation seeped through her like a hot bath. When he started to pull away, she grabbed his hand, keeping it on her breast. Moaning, she closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation as his mouth increased its pressure on her neck and his thumb gently circled her nipple. She stroked her leg against his, her breathing coming in soft, sweet exhalations.

“Emily,” he murmured, then his mouth found hers and claimed it with a slow thoroughness. His tongue teased hers, and she teased back, the back-and-forth a precursor to the joining she really wanted. His other hand found her other breast, and he stroked expertly. Her fingers dug into his firm shoulders in response.

After what seemed like a pleasurable eternity, he released one breast. She whimpered in protest, only to stop when his hand moved lower, reaching between her thighs and dipping into her moist heat. She bit her lip as the sensation overwhelmed her. He gently parted the folds of skin until he found her sleek clit and rubbed it with firm precision. She felt pressure building up in her and she arched her back, trying to bring herself in closer contact with the man who was causing her to react so strongly. He kept working at it, insistently, delicately, until she thought she would explode.

Then he pressed a finger into her, and she couldn’t help it. She came, and it was more than an explosion…it was a supernova. She threw her head back, letting the experience rock her.

When she came back to Earth, she looked at him and saw he had a beatific smile on his face. “That was…” She struggled to find a word that covered it and couldn’t.

“You’re welcome,” he said, winking at her. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a screamer.”

The blush washed over her entire body. She was sure he noticed, but she didn’t care. “I didn’t know I was,” she admitted. “I don’t think I was before.”

“You don’t say.” He moved his head down, sucking first on one nipple, then the other.

Emily still felt desire, but the raw, slicing edge of it had been dulled by her orgasm. Now she was hungry for him, but she wasn’t starving the way she’d been before. She could take her time, and enjoy the interplay of their bodies much more intently.

I don’t know when I’ll have this sort of chance again, she thought. I’m going to make every moment count.

She nudged his head up, and he sent her a puzzled look. “Your turn,” she said, smiling wickedly.

“Oh?”

She pushed him down against the mattress, enjoying the way his erect cock stood, large and prominent, demanding attention. She pressed a few slow kisses against his chest, then his stomach, her tongue tracing the defined muscles. She was gratified to see his breathing go shallow. Slowly she stroked her hands on his thighs, drawing her nails down the sensitive skin. He drew in a sharp, hissing breath, releasing it in a slow, ragged sigh as she finally encircled his erection with her fingers.

“Your hands are so soft,” he marveled, his eyes closing. His hips arched up to meet her as her hands traveled up and down the length of his shaft.

“Think so? Try this,” she answered playfully, then took the head of his penis into her mouth.

He groaned loudly. She traced the head with her tongue before sucking ever so softly, caressing the velvety skin with her lips. His breathing increased in pace.

“Emily,” he rasped.

His cock was like iron wrapped in satin. She reveled in the clean, masculine taste of his skin, taking him in a few more inches, her fingers stroking the round globes of his balls.

After a few moments, he reached down, pulling her up roughly. “I have to be inside you,” he said, his voice coarse with need. “Now.”

She smiled, feeling triumphant. He sounded just the way she’d felt when he’d given her that first orgasm. She liked that she might be able to make this man tremble, mindless with need. “Condom,” she breathed, reaching over on her nightstand and getting one of the newly purchased foil packets. She tore it open, rolling it onto him slowly, taunting him with it. He was shaking by the time she was done.

He rolled her onto her back, and she felt the glorious weight of him pressing her into her mattress. He kissed her fiercely, and she responded with equal ferocity, parting her legs so he could fit himself at her snug opening. She felt the head of his cock slide slightly between her wet folds. He reached down, teasing her clit with his hardness until she was gasping with desire, her legs twining around his as she struggled to bring him closer.

“I want you inside me,” she said.

Without a word, he finally relented and thrust into her, filling her completely. It felt so incredibly good she could have cried. She circled her hips, instinctively tightened her muscles as she enveloped him in her warmth.

He groaned, withdrawing slowly, and she moaned in return. “Deeper,” she breathed, and he returned, with maddening patience, going farther into her. Her legs tightened around his hips, cradling him inside her.

“Colin.” She shivered as the first luscious tremors of passion inched through her. “I’m almost there….”

Taking her cue, he increased his speed, his hips moving more quickly as his cock moved in and out of her willing wetness. Emily felt her body start to tighten and she ran her nails down his back as her hips bucked to meet his every thrust.

“Baby, I’m going to…” he groaned, and she cried out in approval. The two of them were frenzied in their joining, as if they couldn’t get close enough to each other. He let out a guttural shout as he emptied himself into her with a hard, definitive motion, triggering an orgasm that eclipsed her first. She cried out again, a sound of pure pleasure, as her body clutched around him. To her surprise, he shuddered again as their hips melded together, rocking in the aftershocks of climax.

After long moments, he rolled off her, leaving them both sweaty and breathless. He stared at her, his green eyes like beacons.

“You were right,” he said. “I would have regretted saying no to you for my entire life.”

She basked in the compliment of his words, even as a small part of her conscious brain registered what he was saying.

This is a one-night stand. She’d just had her world spun on its axis by a man she’d fantasized about for years…but this was it. This was all she was going to get.

Is this going to be worth it?

She glanced at him. In the aftermath of sex, he still looked sinfully tempting. There was no sense of regret, no lingering return of reason that asked her, What were you thinking? She knew exactly what she’d been thinking when she decided to seduce Colin Reese. She knew because she was still thinking it.

But what are you going to do when you can’t have him again?

He’d made it clear that there was no future. He was leaving, crossing an ocean to get away from Tall Pines. He was certainly not about to return to the small town that he had caused so much grief—and which wanted to return the favor by prying into every minute detail of his now almost famous local-rebel-makes-good life.

So where does that leave you?

She sighed. It left her here, in Tall Pines. Alone.

He leaned over, kissing where her heart beat. “You are going to haunt me,” he said softly.

He was going to haunt her, too. But then again, it never could have lasted. She’d been well aware of that going into this little arrangement.

She might settle for the comfort of friendship and a passionless relationship, she thought as his fingers brushed over the surface of her skin, bringing the nerve endings to life. She was a realist. Would she ever find a man she reacted to as strongly as she did to Colin? She could either agonize over the question or simply enjoy the moment.

Tonight was all they had, and she would make the most of it.

“You have to leave at nine tomorrow, you said?” Emily asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“We’ve still got hours,” she reminded him, just as she had before, in the living room.

“Really,” he drawled. “What shall we do with ourselves?”

She smiled, licking her lips. “As it happens,” she said, her voice husky with sexual promise, “I’ve got a few ideas I’d love to try.”

“I SAID, WHERE TO, mister?” the cab driver asked, slowly and carefully, as if Colin were hard of hearing.

Colin guessed that the man must have repeated the question several times. “Sorry,” he said. “I need to get to the airport in Hartford.”

The cabbie snorted. “I’ll give it a shot.” The taxi began slowly creeping out of the Stanfield Arms’s circular driveway.

Colin stared out the window in a daze. The entire town of Tall Pines was smothered in mountainous drifts of snow, making the whole scene seem oddly muted. It only added to Colin’s feeling of surreal displacement.

Did last night really happen?

Yes, it had happened—and in a way was still happening for him, since he’d gotten no more than a catnap or two the entire night. Once he’d given in to his urge and slept with Emily, it was as if he couldn’t get enough of her. Fortunately, she’d seemed to feel the same way, because the two of them had feasted on each other for hours, and even now weariness hadn’t quite settled in.

They’d made love twice in the bed, once in front of the fireplace, once in the shower and once on the countertop of her bathroom. He hadn’t had sex like that for years. His body felt well used, just this side of sore. His mind, on the other hand, kept replaying the more vivid highlights of the previous night—and suggesting new and exciting variations that they might try in a second round.

Pity there isn’t going to be a second round.

That was why they called them one-night stands, he reminded himself. One night. He wasn’t quite sure where the “stand” part fit in. Although now that he thought about it, the shower…

“You all right, mister?”

Colin refocused on the cab driver. “What?”

“You look sorta out of it,” the guy said, peering at Colin from his rearview mirror. “Don’t tell me. You had yourself a merry little Christmas, huh? Really tied one on?”

“You could say that,” Colin said ruefully, obviously not willing to divulge secrets.

“Hard to believe you could party that hard in a town like this. Tiny little mom-and-pop stores, all those wrought-iron lampposts with holly around ’em. It looks like an old movie or something.”

Colin looked out the window as if seeing the place with a stranger’s eyes. It was picturesque, he had to admit. The windows were decorated with paint and candles, and the streets were clear of the litter and debris that he was so used to in the sprawling cities he normally worked in. Most of the stores were brick or stone, not concrete. The houses had nice landscaping and everywhere were Christmas decorations, tasteful and old-fashioned.

“I’ll have to tell my wife about it,” the cabbie continued cheerfully. “She loves this kind of crap. You live here?”

“No,” Colin said.

“Just passin’ through, then?”

“Yup. Just passing through.” The thought brought a pang.

How long is this sensation going to last?

He’d known that sleeping with Emily was going to be trouble even before he’d set foot into her bedroom. Apparently it was going to be more trouble than he’d bargained for…and he hadn’t even been away from her for an hour.

“Well, it’s cute and all, but it’s a pure pain in the ass to get to,” the cabbie stated. “Especially with the blizzard.”

“Wait a minute,” Colin interrupted. “Especially with the what?”

“Blizzard. Man, it’s been on the news all over the place,” the cabbie said. “They’ve had travel advisories. It’s been on the radio and the television and the newspapers. Where have you been?” He shook his head. “That must’ve been one hell of a party.”

“It was,” Colin said. “I’ve got a flight to New York, then a connection to Paris. Any word on airports shutting down?”

“I think there are delays but nothing too bad,” the driver reassured him.

“Oh,” Colin said. “That’s…good.”

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” the cabbie joked. “Paris, huh? Ooh la la. Vacation or something?”

“No, I’m moving there.”

Without warning, his body suddenly felt exhausted. He wished the cab driver weren’t quite so chatty. Maybe it was the thought of a transatlantic flight or maybe it was the thought of leaving, he wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, his body abruptly decided to remind him that he hadn’t gotten a premium on sleep last night and he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Suddenly he was having a hard enough time staying conscious, much less carrying on a conversation.

He wondered absently whether Emily was sleeping. She’d been naked and bundled up in her bedding when he’d said goodbye. She’d smiled, kissed him and turned over so she didn’t have to see him leave.

It had been harder than he’d ever imagined to walk out that door.

“Moving to Paris? Wow. The wife would love it, but me, I can’t see leaving the States,” the cabdriver continued relentlessly.

Colin listened halfheartedly to the cabdriver’s cheerful patter. He watched as the town’s landmarks moved slowly past them, enveloped in fluffy flakes that almost turned the air white with their abundant barrage. The gazebo in the town square looked like an igloo, piled high with a dome of snow. The statue of the town’s founder waded waist deep in a drift, while the Otter Lodge sign was almost completely covered up, revealing only the “Otter.”

The cab skidded abruptly, and Colin realized he’d been drifting off. “Whoa!”

“Sorry about that,” the cabdriver said. “I’ve got chains on, but this is nuts. I haven’t seen a storm this bad in years.”

Colin wondered if Emily was going to be okay. She was up in the attic, after all, and as luxurious as the small apartment suite was, it was awfully close to the roof, which was probably piled up with tons of snow.

He suddenly had a horrible vision of the roof caving in and fought the absolutely irrational desire to have the cab turn around and return him to the inn.

Even if the roof’s not strong enough, what were you planning on doing to stop it? Hold the thing up with your arms?

He wasn’t sure what he would do. He just knew that he hated the idea of Emily in any kind of trouble. And, if he were being completely honest with himself, some part of him was searching desperately for an excuse to get back to the inn. To her.

He knew that it was stupid, but there it was.

Chalk it up to lack of sleep.

“So what kind of business are you in?” the cabdriver asked.

“I’m an architect,” Colin said.

“Houses and stuff?”

“Not exactly. My next project is a hotel on the Left Bank, about a stone’s throw from the Eiffel Tower.”

“Must be nice,” the cabdriver said with a low, appreciative whistle. “So, what, they aren’t building any hotels on this side of the ocean?”

“Now you sound like my mother,” Colin said, and the cabdriver snorted.

“Well, to each his own,” he said affably. “You like what you do?”

“Love it,” Colin told him, feeling better. “Love the challenges, the new places, the clients. All of it.”

“Now you’re sounding better,” the cabbie pointed out. “That hangover wearing off?”

Colin smiled tightly. “Seems like it.”

“I hate hangovers,” the cabdriver continued. “Still, every now and then you’ve got to indulge, you know?”

Colin thought about it. Indulgence. That seemed like an inadequate word to cover what had taken place last night. But still, wasn’t that basically how Emily was looking at it?

Ten bucks says she isn’t mooning about you this morning, pal. She’s probably sleeping it off, or getting back to work. The way she’d talked about it, it was the experience she wanted, and the fact that it was with him was incidental. As though he was a stamp in her passport or something.

He didn’t believe it at the time, but now, after seeing her in action—honestly, he wasn’t sure what to believe anymore.

“So your wife and family going with you or what?”

“What’s with the twenty questions?” Colin snapped.

The cabdriver paused. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to bug you. Some people like to talk, you know?”

Colin sighed. “I’m sorry, too,” he said. “I guess that hangover’s stronger than I thought. I didn’t mean to bite your head off.” He paused. “And no. No wife, no kids.”

“Huh. Not surprised, actually. You don’t really seem like a family man.”

Colin sat up straighter, as if someone had smacked him on the back of the head. “Why do you say that?”

“Sharp dresser, goin’ off to Paris the day after Christmas, hungover.” The cabdriver barked out a laugh. “But, hey, I’ve seen weirder from married guys, so I wasn’t absolutely sure. I remember driving this guy to two of his mistresses’ apartments on Thanksgiving, if you can believe it….”

Colin settled back against the cold vinyl seat of the taxi, feeling disgruntled. It all circled back to his family’s comments. He wasn’t the small-town type. He knew that, had known it since before high school. He’d be the first to say so in most cases. So why should the observation bother him now? Why was he getting so ticked off every time someone pointed out that he wasn’t small-town and family-oriented?

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