About the Authors

USA TODAY bestselling author KRISTINE ROLOFSON has written more than forty books for Mills & Boon. She and her husband of many years call Rhode Island, Idaho and Texas home depending upon the time of year. When not writing, Kristine quilts, bakes peach pies, plays the fiddle and sings in a country blues band. She collects vintage cowboy boots and will not tell you how many are in her closet.

CHRISTINE FLYNN is a regular voice in Mills & Boon True Love and has written nearly forty books for the line.

APRIL ARRINGTON grew up in a small southern town and developed a love for films and books at an early age. Emotionally moving stories have always held a special place in her heart. During the day, she enjoys sharing classic literature and popular fiction with students. At night, she spends her time writing stories of her own. April enjoys collecting pottery and soaking up the Georgia sun on her front porch. You can follow her on Twitter at https://twitter.com/april_arrington

Her Mistletoe Magic

The Wish

Kristine Rolofson

Her Holiday Prince Charming

Christine Flynn

The Rancher’s Wife

April Arrington

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09767-3

HER MISTLETOE MAGIC

The Wish © 2015 Kristine Rolofson Her Holiday Prince Charming © 2013 Christine Flynn The Rancher’s Wife © 2016 April Standard

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

The Wish

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Her Holiday Prince Charming

Back Cover Text

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

The Rancher’s Wife

Back Cover Text

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

About the Publisher

The Wish

Kristine Rolofson

With thanks and love to my husband,

who makes every Christmas fun.

CHAPTER ONE

“IS IT TRUE? The Barrett wedding is canceled?”

Grace Clarke looked up from her phone. “Yes.”

“Wow.” Patsy McLean, Mirror Lake Lodge’s longtime business manager, entered Grace’s office and plopped down in one of the overstuffed burgundy chairs that fronted her glass desk. “This is not good.”

“No. It’s not.” She tossed her phone aside and eyed her friend. “I’m trying not to hyperventilate.”

“You never hyperventilate. Not even during the clown reunion. Remember that?”

Grace shuddered. “I still have nightmares.”

“The big curly-haired clown had a crush on you,” Patsy reminded her. “He wanted you to wear polka dots and learn to play the harmonica.”

“And the one with all the tattoos thought you should join the circus and live happily ever after with a man who turns balloons into animals.”

Patsy sighed. “There are times when I think I should have gone with him.” Her daughter was in the middle of a nasty divorce and had returned home six months ago, her twin toddlers in tow, while she and her cheating ex worked out the details. Patsy and her recently retired husband were still reeling from the chaos.

“It’s too late,” Grace declared. “No circus clowns for us.”

“Speak for yourself, sweetie. You’re still ridiculously young and so pretty. You could have all the clowns you want.”

“I guess that’s a compliment?”

“It is. I wish I had your figure, your skin, your age.” Patsy sighed. “Please tell me you’re going out with that real-estate agent who found the condo for you. What is his name?”

“Brad.”

“Did he ask you out?”

“Not exactly. I believe his exact words were, ‘If you ever get, like, really lonely, give me a call and maybe we can hook up.’”

“I’m sorry I asked.” Patsy eyed the various cardboard boxes lining the walls of Grace’s small office. “So, what happened with the wedding? Did the groom get cold feet? Did the bride run away with the best man?”

“I’m not sure. Right now it’s a mystery.” She leaned forward and took a sip of very cold coffee from a mug that said Fail To Plan, Plan To Fail.

“Who told you?”

“Both of them, actually. It was pretty grim. Julie did the talking. And the poor groom just looked stunned. Like he didn’t know what hit him.”

“So she’s the one who has the cold feet? Or another lover? Or her parents hate the groom. Or she found out he was cheating on her. Or all of the above.”

“I don’t know what happened. They’ve been an easy couple to work with. But I guess you can never tell what’s going on under the surface.” She looked at the shipping boxes that represented months of planning. Red glass Christmas ornaments embellished with the bride’s and groom’s names and the date of the wedding, pinecones for place-card holders, fat ivory candles, canning jars to be filled with battery-operated fairy lights—all destined for a seven o’clock wedding on Christmas Eve.

“True. But it does seem pretty dramatic, calling off a wedding so close to the ceremony.”

“I’m going to have to look up an easy way to remove glitter-glued names from a hundred ornaments. Julie said she didn’t want any of the decorations and I hate to throw them away.” The wedding would have been absolutely gorgeous. Grace had planned on taking lots of photos to use as inspiration for other brides considering the Mirror Lake Lodge for their wedding.

“There’s always eBay, I guess. Maybe another Mason and Julie will be getting married next Christmas.” Patsy peered at the boxes—one of the open ones was stuffed with pinecones. “What about the pinecones? I thought they were cute.”

“I’ll save them. I can use them for something else. But the little canning jars are my favorite.” She had planned on taping the battery packs to the underside of the jar lids. “Festive Country Elegance” was her theme for this particular wedding.

“If you still want to assemble them, we can put some on the mantels. Or maybe the restaurant will want to use them for the Christmas buffet.”

“Okay.”

“Speaking of the restaurant,” Patsy drawled. “Who’s going to tell Nico?”

Grace shot her a pointed look.

“Oh no,” Patsy said, her silver-and-red curls bouncing around her face. She threw up her hands. “That is so not part of my job description.”

Grace wished it wasn’t part of hers, but as the events coordinator for the lodge she had no choice but to discuss the cancellation with the lodge’s most famous employee. The smoldering Italian chef would not be pleased. He’d worked on the menu for over a month, combining classic and elegant dishes to the delight of the bride, the groom and the bride’s quiet mother. They had all been thrilled with his creative ideas, particularly when he incorporated his now-famous cheese bar.

Nico loved parties.

He was not going to love this news.

“He’s going to throw a fit.” Or worse, ask her to join him for a glass of wine while he flirted shamelessly.

“No, he isn’t.” Patsy frowned. “Well, maybe a little fit. Did you see the episode when he got really angry with that actor, the one who was the villain in that time-travel movie, I think.”

“The tall guy,” Grace said. “He thought it was funny to keep adding extra salt and pepper to the food whenever Nico turned his back.”

“I thought Nico was going to punch him.”

“He came close,” Grace recalled. The YouTube video of those fifteen minutes of television time had gone viral.

“And the time the chicken wasn’t cooked properly in that restaurant he was trying to help. He told the cook to leave and never come back. In Italian, I think.”

“‘Raw chicken kills’,” he said. Remember? And then he threw those pans out the back door and two of the waitresses were crying—and then they went to a commercial.”

“I wonder what happened to that restaurant. I should look it up.”

“He’s never thrown anything here, has he?” Grace had heard he was a perfectionist and an exacting employer, but nothing about violence. Still, he had a reputation in the tabloids for his passionate nature.

“Well, just some utensils. But not at anyone directly,” Patsy replied. “I think he just cooks with gusto.”

“Gusto,” Grace repeated, thinking of Nico’s enormous energy. She wondered if he ever slept—he always seemed to be in the lodge’s kitchen.

“He loves weddings,” Patsy reminded her. “The bigger the better, he says.”

“Well, everything has been paid for. The bride understood it was too late for refunds. Flowers, food, music, cake, everything. I hate to think of it going to waste.”

“There’s always the food bank. We’ve done that before with leftovers.”

“I’ll make some phone calls in the morning,” Grace said, wondering if anyone would want ruby-red wedding decorations with pinecone placeholders and fairy lights.

“Ask Brian or one of the interns to take these boxes to the back room. Don’t do it yourself.” Patsy looked at her watch. “I’d better get back to the desk. I said I’d help Noelle with the tour group’s arrival at one o’clock.”

“But they’re only here overnight, is that right?”

“Yes. A quick in and out—a celebratory dinner, a sleigh ride to the cabin, and then they’re on to Boston in the morning after a leisurely brunch. Nico has planned some kind of decadent French toast for them.” She mock shuddered. “The man’s food is so good just the thought of it gives me chills.”

Grace eyed the half of a protein bar she was saving for a late-afternoon snack. It sat on her desk next to her now empty coffee cup, mocking her and her perpetual diet, daring her to throw it in the trash. “Eating his food would make me gain ten pounds in one day.”

“It wouldn’t show,” Patsy responded loyally, but Grace knew better. At five feet two inches tall, she had to watch every calorie in order to fit into her clothes, like the size eight petite red sheath dress she’d worn to match the lodge’s decorations today. Tomorrow she thought an ivory sweater and matching pencil skirt with dark gold suede boots would be appropriate, especially for the staff’s Secret Santa breakfast. She planned to wear her new dark burgundy lace dress for Christmas Eve. Grace believed that blending in, looking as if she belonged to the lodge, was a necessary part of her job.

“Keep me posted on the wedding,” Patsy said, heading toward the door. “If there’s anything I can do—”

“I’ll let you know,” Grace promised. But she didn’t intend to keep her friend away from her busy family and excited grandchildren during the holidays, no matter how many events were canceled. Patsy had already volunteered to work the desk on Christmas Eve so Noelle, who had a young son, could take the day off.

It wouldn’t last forever.

Five more days until Christmas craziness was behind her.

Grace Clarke eyed the oversize calendar on her glass-topped desk and took a deep breath. She stayed organized using cell phone reminders and sticky notes, but she relied on her old-fashioned paper calendar to help her keep track of the Big Picture.

And the Big Picture had just shrunk.

Today was Monday, December 21. Yesterday Grace had overseen an intimate wedding between two eighty-year-olds and their immediate families, a Christmas party for the local chamber of commerce and a special family dinner for the resident bride and groom and their families.

The dinner was to have kicked off the wedding festivities, which would culminate in a Christmas Eve ceremony for a couple who appeared to be made for each other. The bride had been cooperative throughout the entire year they’d spent making arrangements and, despite some strange behavior during a dress fitting yesterday, she’d been a joy to work with. The groom, a physician, had been agreeable and patient.

In other words, he’d behaved the way a perfect groom should.

Until he’d been dumped.

Grace empathized.

She consulted her agenda on the iPad. She needed to make sure that the twenty-six people from the tour bus would be seated in the dining room for dinner at five thirty. Their sleigh rides had been confirmed for eight o’clock, with a return between eleven and twelve. There were the shuttle buses to Santa’s Village to oversee—the guests’ children loved that particular tradition. She’d had some luck helping the manager of the Village fill a Santa vacancy for tomorrow—one of the wedding guests turned out to be familiar with the role. The much-anticipated and very casual staff party would be held tomorrow morning, but she had nothing left to do for that event.

As far as she knew, the lodge was full, though Grace was pretty sure the groom and his family would be leaving the hotel and heading home. She made a note to check with Patsy on that. The maid of honor had arrived today, so either she hadn’t known about the cancellation of the wedding or she was here to support the bride. Or maybe she loved to ski. After all, the bride and her mother had decided to stay for a few days and turn the visit into a vacation.

A vacation without lace, flowers, rings or promises of enduring love.

Grace couldn’t understand it, but what Julie Barrett did or did not do was her own business. It was up to Grace to pick up the pieces.

She stalled for another two hours, making phone calls and going over the week’s events. Finally she emerged from her office, which was conveniently tucked along a hallway next to the front desk in the main building. The double-door entrance facing the lake was decorated with the customary greenery and white lights. Each wreath was adorned with a red velvet bow and a set of tiny dangling sleigh bells. Patsy had Perry Como crooning through the stereo system.

“I will get even,” she murmured as she passed the front desk where Patsy and Noelle huddled over the computer monitor. “I just downloaded ‘Boogie Woogie Santa Claus’ from Amazon.”

“Bring it on,” Patsy said. “You can’t possibly compete. I have forty-seven easy-listening Christmas albums on my iPod, including Elvis.”

“Kill me now.”

Noelle looked up and smiled. “I heard that Nico loves Andrea Bocelli.”

“Gosh, really?” Grace feigned surprise, which made both women grin, and she headed up the polished wooden stairs to the restaurant. She loved the lodge, with its elegant white exterior and porches, stone fireplaces and pine walls. She loved the views of the lake, piles of snow framing ice perfect for skating, and the Oriental rugs on the polished wooden floors.

She did not love Christmas, not this year. This year it was merely a holiday to be endured. Her father was on a cruise with his latest fiancée and Grace’s only other relative, Aunt Ellen, was in Arizona with her daughter’s family and a new grandchild. It wasn’t the holiday she’d envisioned eighteen months ago when she’d been planning her own Christmas wedding, but she would make the best of it. On January 4, when the lodge’s many Christmas trees were stripped of their sparkly decorations and Patsy’s CDs were returned to the drawer labeled Boring Holiday Music, Grace would breathe a sigh of relief and look forward to a lovely, hectic ski season.

Grace stepped into the restaurant and waved to one of the waiters.

“He’s in the back,” the young man called out.

“Thanks, Tom.” She made her way past the elegant linen-covered tables and white chairs, the empty tables set with the lodge’s trademark white linen napkins and December’s emerald tablecloths. She approved of the holiday flower arrangements, shades of cream and white dotted with silvery jingle bells, all very elegant and tasteful, as sophisticated as the chef himself.

The restaurant was a spacious room, much longer than it was wide, with windows along the wall that faced the lake. The far end could be enclosed for private events, something Grace had done many times in the past four years. Tonight’s tour group had opted to sit in the main area of the dining room, and she saw that a table for twenty-six stretched along the windows across from the stone fireplace. Eight or so tables held the last of the lunch crowd and, as usual, the long room was immaculate.

Mirror Lake Lodge was known for its many stone fireplaces. Not every venue in the Lake Placid area could boast so many beautiful public rooms, which made her job booking events easier. All she had to do was show potential brides the Wildwood Room, a private dining room and wedding venue separated from the main restaurant with a view of the lake and, of course, its own massive fireplace. Then there was the Mirror Lakeview Ballroom, just a few steps up from the Wildwood Room through a set of French doors. Floor-to-ceiling windows highlighted a huge room designed in the Victorian summer-home style, with wooden walls painted white and dark wood floors. It boasted two rustic stone fireplaces, one on each end of the rectangular room. Since its construction ten years ago, the Mirror Lakeview Ballroom had been the setting for many weddings, reunions, fashion shows, civic functions and “celebrations of life.”

Julie Barrett’s wedding ceremony was to have taken place in front of the fireplace in the Wildwood Room, with her reception for eighty-five people up half a flight of stairs in the ballroom. She’d wanted room for dancing, and had been thrilled that the two large Christmas trees would be decorated and lit. She’d even requested Grace’s specialty, the hot-chocolate bar, to add to the cozy winter atmosphere. So, what had happened?

It was none of her business, she reminded herself as she weaved through the tables toward the kitchen. But still, what made love start and stop? She found it all a little sad.

A young waiter carrying two silver platters of homemade cookies burst out of the kitchen and headed her way.

“Teatime,” Brian announced, stopping to lower one of the gaily decorated platters in front of Grace. “Want one?”

“No thanks.” Tea and cookies were provided in the lobby each afternoon, much to Patsy’s delight. Their guests loved the tradition, of course, which added to the lodge’s popularity. “Is he in?”

“Of course.” The boy grinned. “He’s training two more interns.”

“Uh-oh.” She inhaled. “Those smell so good.”

“Hey, you know baking cookies is the highlight of Maria’s day,” he called, hurrying out of the room.

Maria had been the lodge’s pastry chef for thirty-one years. Her cookie recipes were highly guarded secrets, though Patsy swore she’d replicated the almond cookies once. Maria was a sweet, quiet woman in her fifties who rarely spoke, but she had a gift for baking, if not for conversation. She made a different kind of cookie for each day of the week and Mondays were oatmeal raisin.

“Grace! You are looking for me?” Dominic “Nico” Vitelli stepped out of the kitchen and smiled. “Finally!”

His smile lit up his eyes. That genuine smile of his had attracted viewers of all ages to his television show last year. The tall rangy body clad in a white chef’s jacket and jeans, along with dark curling hair and surprising blue eyes, looked good on camera. Grace, who had little interest in cooking, had watched the show several times, but only when she was channel surfing on a rare Saturday afternoon off. And during those times she had been mesmerized by the man’s sex appeal. He made cooking look seductive and sensual. She often wondered why his show had been cancelled, why he’d returned home after that failure—and it must have been devastating—instead of continuing his exciting Hollywood lifestyle. But here he was. Smiling at her.

“Finally?” She couldn’t imagine why he’d be looking forward to seeing her. She kept their meetings brief and to the point. All business, all the time. She didn’t want to be flirted with, had no desire to play games with the former television star. She longed to meet a quiet accountant who dreamed of living a quiet, ordinary life devoted to his wife and family.

Unfortunately, the accountants she met at the lodge were all married, snapped up by women who knew a good thing when they saw it. Unlike Grace, who fell for charming men with commitment issues.

“Of course.” He waved her closer. “Come into the kitchen. I want you to try the special tonight, ravioli with pesto cream. And I have a bottle of Chianti breathing on the counter.”

“I have something important—”

“Good. We’ll discuss it. Come,” he said, holding the door open for her.

She had no choice but to step into the kitchen, Nico following behind her. Grace scurried around the corner and into the gleaming kitchen. Nico’s World, someone had nicknamed it shortly after the chef had been hired to return the restaurant to its former glory. The kitchen was usually noisy and loud, filled with bustling servers, cooks and dishwashers, but this afternoon only a handful of prep cooks lined the stainless-steel work counters. In another hour the restaurant would be chaotic again. Right now the smell of freshly baked cookies competed with the aroma of garlic and bread just out of the oven.

Grace greeted the staff and trotted across the stone floor in her ruby-red heels. Suddenly her right foot slipped from underneath her. Her ankle twisted and she was falling backward into the arms of the handsome chef.

“Whoa,” he said from somewhere above her head. “What the hell—”

“Sorry,” she managed to say, until he attempted to set her back on her feet and her ankle buckled again.

“Hold on.” He gripped her waist so she was lifted off her feet. “Chair!”

Three white-coated interns rushed to find a chair and within seconds an intern set one down in front of Nico and Grace. Nico placed her carefully on its brown leather seat.

“Thank you,” Grace said, surprised at how much her ankle had started to hurt. “I don’t know what happened.”

“I do. I think you slipped on these.” He bent over to pick up a tiny cluster of metal jingle bells and held them in the air to show his staff. “Ideas, anyone?”

“The cookie platters, Chef,” one of the young women said. “They must have fallen off the cookie platters.”

“Ah.” He frowned at the bells and shoved them in his jacket pocket before turning back to Grace. He knelt down to peer at her foot. “Those are ridiculous shoes.”

“I’m glad the heel didn’t break. I love them.”

“I loved them, too,” he muttered, lifting her foot to his thigh. “Until a few minutes ago.”

“Just give me a minute to catch my breath and then I’ll limp out of here.” It was so embarrassing. One minute she’d been ready to discuss business and then she’d landed against a surprisingly wide chest and into a pair of extremely muscular arms.

Must be all that chopping and whipping and stirring, she decided. Cooking was not for wimps.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Chef?” An intern pushed an empty chair closer. Nico positioned it in front of Grace and sat down, then carefully removed her shoe. Grace held her breath until he was finished. “Joan, check to make sure there are no more hazards on the floor. Check the dining room, too. Where’s Brian?”

“Here, Chef.” The young man looked at Grace and gulped. “I’m really sorry, Ms. Clarke. They must have fallen when—”

But his boss interrupted. “Yes, yes, it was an accident, Brian. Now, get some ice. And a towel.”

“Yes, Chef.”

“It’s all right, really.” She smiled when Brian returned. “I’ve tripped over all sorts of things in this job. Fallen, too. Don’t worry. This is nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Nico said, forming an ice pack with the towel. He placed it near the top of her foot. “It’s swelling. You may need X-rays.”

“Ow.” She made a move to pull her foot back, but Nico held her calf to keep her still. She smoothed her dress and made sure no one could see her matching red panties. She was sure Nico was the type to appreciate such things. And she wasn’t going to give him any more reasons to flirt with her.

“Definitely X-rays,” he said.

“It’s just a little sprain,” Grace countered. “I’ll take the ice and go back to my office—”

“Don’t we have doctors staying here for Thursday’s wedding?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’ll see if Noelle or Patsy can track one down, give us an opinion. Brian? Go ask at the desk. Otherwise, we’ll head to town.”

“Patsy can take me. You’re busy with ravioli and sauce and dinner and the twenty-six sightseers.”

“Patsy can’t carry you. And my staff is perfectly capable of making ravioli.” He arched a brow in their direction and a chorus of “Yes, Chef!” followed.

Grace didn’t want to like him. She didn’t want her toes to tingle every time his fingers shifted the ice pack. She didn’t want to believe he was actually pleased to be taking care of her.

There were rumors he’d dated three actresses at the same time. His picture had been on the cover of In Touch magazine, along with his glamorous raven-haired producer and the caption hinting at a surprise pregnancy. He’d cooked for George Clooney and been featured in Oprah’s magazine along with his recipe for eggplant Parmesan.

“You must salt the eggplant and let it rest,” he’d been quoted as saying, as if that information unlocked the secrets of the universe, eternal life and the cure for cancer.

“Why do you let eggplant rest?” she said suddenly.

He beckoned one of the interns over. “More ice, please.”

“Yes, Chef.” The college student hurried to do Nico’s bidding.

“Okay,” he said, looking at her with those dark blue eyes of his. “Why do you let eggplant rest?”

It took her a moment to realize he thought she was making a joke. “No,” she said. “You told Oprah to let the eggplant rest.”

There was that sexy smile again. She couldn’t stop herself from blushing, but she hoped he would assume the heat of the kitchen was to blame. The pain in her foot blossomed, burning toward her ankle and up her leg.

“It must be salted to sweat—to release liquid—so it won’t be soggy.”

“That’s interesting.” She was babbling about eggplant. Could this be any more embarrassing?

“Would you like some? Dinner service doesn’t start until five, but I will put aside—”

“Thank you, that’s very nice of you, but—”

“You don’t like Italian food.”

“I love Italian food. Who doesn’t?” She shivered as he ran his index finger along her ankle. His touch was so gentle she didn’t feel any pain. Or maybe her skin was frozen from the ice. She was just being silly. Grace gulped. Time to get back to business. “I came to tell you that the Barrett wedding has been canceled.”

He frowned. “I heard. Why have you waited hours to tell me about it?”

“You knew?”

Nico smiled. “There are no secrets around here. One of the house cleaners heard the mother talking about it. Would you like a cup of tea, Grace? A glass of water?”

“No, thank you. About the wedding, Julie and Mason have apologized for the inconvenience. And they know the refund policy.”

“I’ll let some of the staff know they will have that night off, after all, but they were looking forward to making the extra money. And I will have beef Wellington specials on the menu for the next ten days.”

“I know. We’ve all worked so hard getting ready.” She wondered why he was taking the news in stride. Maybe in Hollywood, canceled weddings happened all the time. “Well, I’d better get back to work. If you would help me stand up—”

“Is there someone I can call to help you?”

“No, I’ll manage.”

“Give it another minute,” Nico advised. “Has anyone ever told you that you should always wear red?”

Oh, for heaven’s sake. She wanted to roll her eyes, but caught herself. “You are such a flirt.”

“Grace!” He pretended to look insulted. “It was merely an observation. You’ve made it clear you aren’t interested in going out with me, so I won’t ask you again. Think of me as an impartial observer. And a paramedic.”

“Right.” She hid a smile.

He was heart-stoppingly attractive, disarmingly kind. And charming, too, with that eyebrow lift that sent his staff scurrying to do his bidding. But she was going to resist, just as she had since he’d joined the staff. It was a matter of self-preservation. There were lots of reasons to avoid this man. It was a “father thing,” Patsy had informed her after Tom bailed. Patsy had just read a biography of Jacqueline Kennedy and was up to date on “father things.” Daughters with playboy fathers tended to repeat the past in an effort to change it, Patsy had declared.

Grace hadn’t argued. She’d read plenty of articles on topics like How to Tell a Keeper From a Loser, and she’d come to the conclusion that a little more self-awareness couldn’t hurt.

CHAPTER TWO

“EVERYTHING GOOD HAPPENS in the kitchen,” his grandmother used to say. She was a large woman, almost as wide as she was tall. Nico had adored her. And now, with the beautiful Grace Clarke immobilized in his very own kitchen, Adalina di Prioli’s words had never been more true.

“Someday I will have to tell you about my grandmother.” Nico replaced the ice pack with a colder one. The original was sufficient to help with the swelling, but he liked to keep the interns busy and, besides, he wanted to pamper this lovely woman in red.

He’d noticed that no one else seemed to. After a few discreet inquiries, he’d discovered she had no family in town. She had been in a relationship with some guy who moved away, but apparently that had been over for a long time. She seemed to spend most of her time at the lodge; she didn’t party in town or spend her days off on the ski slopes. She drank red wine if she drank anything other than Diet Coke and she emceed the animal shelter’s annual dog fashion show.

“Was she a cook, too?” Grace asked.

“She certainly was.”

“And she taught you everything she knew?”

“Yes.” Nico had perfected Mama Lina’s meatball recipe by the time he was eight, her lasagna at nine, and he began inventing different kinds of ravioli fillings by the time he was ten. “Her lasagna and her meatballs are on the menu. Have you tried them?”

“The lasagna. It was delicious.” He watched her try to wiggle her toes and wince. “We were here for Patsy’s birthday in October. You made tiramisu, and we had a cake.”

“There was a lot of wine poured that night.” He remembered Grace’s short black dress. She’d worn pumpkin earrings that dangled to her shoulders and threatened to tangle in her blond curls. He’d asked her to go out with him—dinner and a movie—and she’d very politely refused. “Was that the first time I asked you out?”

“I don’t remember.”

“No.” He pretended to think about it. “I believe I invited you for a drink the day I was hired. I should apologize for that.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“But I embarrassed you, I think. And gave you the wrong impression. I was ecstatic that day,” he admitted. “It took two months to talk the owners into hiring me.” At her incredulous expression, he added, “They didn’t want to risk hiring someone who wasn’t going to make a real commitment.”

“I can certainly understand that,” she huffed. “But I would have expected them to jump at the chance to have you.”

“Not exactly,” Nico drawled.

“We heard you cost a fortune.” She smiled. “We thought you’d bring your movie-star girlfriends and illegitimate children with you.”

Well, that was irritating. “Do you always believe everything you read at the grocery store? There was no pregnancy. I never even had a date with Scarlet, and the woman who was on the cover of that stupid magazine? She’s a friend of mine who happens to be gay.”

“Lake Placid must seem very tame compared to LA.”

“If you knew my family, and there are a lot of them, you wouldn’t say that.” He thought of his mother’s dismay over that particular magazine headline. Theresa Vitelli had not been pleased. And his sisters had been horrified. There had been so many texts and voice mails the day the magazine hit newsstands that Nico had ended up tossing his phone to the floor and stomping on it.

Not one of his finer moments. Nico took a deep breath.

“I shouldn’t have bothered you that evening,” he continued. “But you were walking by the bar just as I finished signing the contracts and you looked friendly. You had a clipboard, which seemed charmingly old-fashioned, and I saw you comforting a young girl, a Girl Scout, I think.” He didn’t tell her the weepy Girl Scout had been his niece. “You seemed nice. And I just wanted to celebrate.” He didn’t mention that she’d looked like a curvy golden goddess, and he was so nervous about talking to her that his tongue had dried up in his mouth.

“I don’t have drinks with men I don’t know,” she said. “I’m sorry if I was rude. The Girl Scouts had organized a dinner for their parents in Wildwood and I was really busy.”

“You were perfectly polite, but you broke my heart.” No lie. He hadn’t been that disappointed since Sharon Winn turned down his invitation to the junior prom.

“I’m sure it healed itself after a few minutes.”

Nico chuckled. “You’re right. The bartender bought me a scotch and welcomed me back to Mirror Lake. We played basketball together in high school.”

He lifted the makeshift ice pack and studied her swollen foot. It didn’t look good, but he didn’t want to worry her. “I think it’s time you got that ankle checked out.”

“I don’t—”

“Let’s get you back to your office and see if there’s a doctor in the house.” He grinned. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

“You’re sure you can leave your ravioli? And your wine?”

“They’ll keep,” he said. “We can always have supper later on, if you’re up to it.”

“There’s an eightieth birthday party at seven and I have to make sure that the entertainment arrives. It’s a surprise.”

“In the ballroom, yes. It’s a seven-course dinner for fifty-one people. What’s the entertainment?” Nico handed the ice to an intern, preparing to carry Grace from the kitchen. He knew she would protest unless he kept her talking. She was trying to wiggle her toes again, but pain flickered across her face as she stretched out her leg.

“A polka band. The guest of honor loves to polka, so his children organized a little dance. We’re having the party in the ballroom because, according to the kids, the polka takes up a lot of room and their father can be quite exuberant when he dances.”

“Anything else?”

“A fund-raiser in the bar, but I don’t have to do anything for that. The tour group is all set, I think. You’re offering hot buttered rum and dessert after the sleigh ride?”

“Absolutely. They’ll be available in the lobby when the guests come staggering in, frozen from the cold and thrilled with the moonlight.” He bent over and lifted her into his arms. She let out a little squeak of protest, but her arms curved naturally around his neck as he headed toward the door.

“Michael!” His second in command looked up from the pasta machine.

“Yes, Chef?”

“You’re in charge.”

Michael winked at him and gave him a thumbs-up. “Absolutely, Chef. You take all the time you need.”

Nico stifled a smile. He had no qualms about leaving the kitchen to the staff. He’d trained them well these past four months, had hired and fired until he was satisfied that he had the best team possible. He handed her the ice pack to take with her. She was going to need it in the next few hours because that foot sure as hell wasn’t going to get better anytime soon.

“I’ve never done the polka,” he said. “Have you?”

“No.” She sighed. “I was looking forward to it, too, if I got the chance. This is so embarrassing.”

The handful of diners looked up curiously as Nico made his way through the dining room with Grace in his arms.

“You’re enjoying this,” she said, her hair tickling his chin.

“I am not,” he said, chuckling. “I hate having a beautiful woman in my arms. I would rather be rolling out pasta dough and scolding the interns. I would rather be scrubbing saucepans and cleaning ovens.”

“You’re too important to wash pans yourself, and you certainly don’t clean the ovens. Hi, Mr. Stanford. Did you ski today?”

“Sure did, Gracie,” the gray-haired gentleman replied. He had the remnants of a chocolate cake and half a cup of coffee in front of him. “What happened to you?”

“I twisted my ankle a little.”

“I hope you’re being well taken care of,” he said, giving Nico a warning look.

“I’m going to get her to a doctor,” Nico assured him. “Right now.”

“Good.” He smiled at Grace. “I’ll check with Noelle later and find out how you’re doing.”

Nico managed to get out of the restaurant, down the stairs and to the front desk with only about nine more people asking Grace what happened. Three young women in ski gear had giggled, obviously thrilled to see such a romantic sight, two men had eyed him suspiciously and several children asked Grace if she was being kidnapped.

Patsy met him at the bottom of the stairs.

“I just heard,” she said, peering at Grace’s foot. “It doesn’t look good, sweetie, but I love the red nail polish.”

“I had it done yesterday,” she said. “You can put me down, Nico. Really. You can.”

“All right.” He headed toward the sofa that fronted the fireplace. “Is this okay?”

“My office—”

“Doesn’t have a couch,” Nico said.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, but it’s starting to hurt a little bit more,” she told the hovering Patsy. “Nico has kept ice on it and that really helped.”

“What happened? Brian said you slipped and needed a doctor. I’ve called the two that I know are here, but they’re either still on the mountain or in town. I’ll take you over to the clinic. I called and they don’t close until seven.”

“I’ll take her,” Nico said, reluctantly settling his dream woman on the couch. She’d felt good in his arms, all curves and soft skin, her yellow curls tickling his face. She smelled of vanilla. Hand lotion, maybe? Or perhaps she used the homemade soap from the fancy bath shop in town.

“I think I just need to rest it a bit,” Grace said. “There’s no reason to make a big deal out of this.”

Patsy exchanged a look with Nico.

“One word, Grace,” he said. “X-ray.” He turned back to Patsy. “If you’d get her coat and purse and whatever else she’ll need, I’ll take her over to the clinic.” He hated the fact that she had hurt herself, hated that she was in pain. And since she’d hurt herself in his kitchen, he felt responsible. Getting to spend time with her was the silver lining on his guilt-filled cloud.

Grace protested again. “I just need some Tylenol and the ice pack. I’ll go home and take care of it myself.”

But Patsy wasn’t buying it. “And just how are you going to get up the stairs?”

Nico ignored the crowd that had gathered around the sofa. Children held cookies, parents held coats and the most recent guests checking in stood next to their luggage and stared. He tucked another velvet pillow behind Grace’s back. “Stairs?”

“She lives in a second-floor condo,” Patsy informed him. “Outside stairs. No elevator.”

“Grace can come home with me,” Nico declared. “I have four bedrooms. And a ramp.”

Patsy looked impressed. “Why do you have a ramp?”

He shrugged. “Grace will find it easy to get around. I live right down the street.”

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” Grace grumbled. “Are there any rooms available?”

“I’ll check.” Patsy tried to hide her smile, but Nico saw a twinkle in her eyes when she turned back to him. “But I think Noelle already filled the rest of the rooms.”

“That was fast,” Grace said. “I thought we’d have cancellations after the guests heard about the wedding.”

“I have some news about that,” Patsy said. “But I’ll call you later and fill you in.”

“Hey, Pats! Grace! What’s going on?”

Nico turned to see three burly young men approaching. They were stuffed into identical navy down jackets and looked as if they’d been outside for hours.

“I slipped and fell,” Grace said, looking mortified. “Do not make a big deal about it, okay?”

One of the guys edged Nico aside and lifted the ice pack. “Uh-oh. Looks like a bad sprain or even a fracture. Come on, babe, let’s do it.”

Babe? Do it? Nico couldn’t let that go. “I’m taking her,” he said.

“It’s no problem,” the kid said. “We’ve got the vehicles here and Doc will have her fixed up in no time.”

“But what about the fund-raiser?” Patsy asked. “Aren’t you in charge of that?”

“Yeah, but there are enough other guys coming early. They won’t miss us.” He grinned, showing acres of white teeth. “We can take care of Gracie, easy enough.”

“Fund-raiser?” Nico wanted to deck him, if for no other reason than the sight of his hand on Grace’s bare leg.

“For Search and Rescue,” Grace explained. “You’re catering the appetizers, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Twenty pizzas, and cheese and crackers. Done and done. Not exactly a culinary challenge, but that’s what the group ordered.

“I’ll get your things, Grace,” Patsy said. “You’ll be back here in no time and I’ll see what I can do about a room for you.”

Shoved to the sidelines, Nico watched as Grace was bundled into her black cashmere coat. In a matter of minutes she was out the door, being carried by one of the local EMTs and surrounded by two others. The men joked and laughed as if they were going to a party.

“Don’t look so sad,” Patsy said, touching his arm to get his attention. “You’ll have your chance.”

“I just did. And there it went.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

That got his attention. “Please tell me there’s no room at the inn.”

She grinned. “There is one room available, but I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Deal.”

“Don’t you dare break her heart.”

“I won’t. But she might break mine.”

“I know.” Patsy tapped his chest with her finger. “I’ve watched you mooning over her since you started working here.”

“It’s that obvious?”

“Oh yeah. For a big TV star, you’re kind of pathetic.”

“Not anymore,” he declared. “Not anymore.”

CHAPTER THREE

“I FEEL A lot better now.” Grace tried to sound emphatic, but her voice quavered a bit as she wobbled against Nico’s side. He’d been in the clinic’s waiting room, seated in the midst of texting teenagers and a mother with a screaming baby, when Grace had limped out, crutches under her arms and a medical boot on her right foot. On her left she wore one of Patsy’s running shoes, which her friend kept in her office in case she decided to use the treadmill in the workout room. A nurse had put an athletic sock over her injured foot before showing her how to put the boot on. “I can go back to work.”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “But that’s already been decided. Patsy said to tell you that she’d take over for you at the fund-raiser and she’d see you in the morning. If you’re okay to come to work in the morning, that is. What’s the verdict?”

“A nasty sprain, but nothing is broken. I need to stay off of it as much as I can, treat it with ice and keep it elevated.”

“Okay. Let’s go get it elevated and iced.”

“I have to pick up a prescription. Would you mind taking me to Kinney’s?” Her foot ached, but the twelve-year-old doctor had called in a prescription for painkillers at the pharmacy. “If you could help me get home, I would appreciate it.”

Nico was silent as he opened the door and helped her down the freshly shoveled ramp to the parking lot. His familiar Toyota 4Runner sat in a handicapped spot.

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“At seven thirty at night? With a woman on crutches?” He beeped the doors open and settled her into the passenger seat. “There. How bad is the pain?”

“I’m trying not to cry,” she admitted. He looked so concerned. She wanted to tell him not to worry about her, that she would be fine, but he backed away and shut the door.

“First stop, drugs,” he announced once he was behind the wheel. The car was warm, despite the cold temperature and the light snow flurries that danced in the air.

“Thank you.” She adjusted her seat belt and turned toward him. “I would have called Patsy for a ride home. I didn’t expect anyone to be waiting for me.” She’d felt a surprising mixture of relief and pleasure when she’d seen him sitting in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs and reading an old issue of Sports Illustrated.

“Is there anyone I can call for you? Family?”

“My father lives in Boston, but he’s out of town for the holidays.” Not that he would have been at all helpful. “And my aunt, who lives in Saranac, has gone to help my cousin, who just had another baby. In Arizona.” She had friends, good friends, but it was four days before Christmas and no one needed an injured friend in their spare bedroom, or worse, on their living room couch. Even Karen, the one person she would have called after Patsy, had a houseful of in-laws and a set of eight-month-old twins.

“So you’re stuck with me.” Nico shot her a grin.

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you’re thinking it.”

“Just a little.” She couldn’t help laughing. It was either that or burst into tears. She wanted to curl up in her bed and pretend it was July.

He left the car running while he picked up the prescription, which gave Grace time to wonder how Nico was going to carry her up a flight of stairs to her little condo. He’d had no trouble carrying her down the stairs at the inn a few hours ago, but going up was a different deal. She could sit down and scoot on her rear, step by step. It would be cold, slow and undignified, but not impossible.

This was starting to get complicated. Maybe Patsy had found her a room at the lodge. If she could just get into a bed and lie down for a few hours, she was sure she’d feel better.

Nico returned with a bottle of water, her pills and a plastic bag filled with junk food, which he plopped in her lap.

“My sisters always wanted M&M’s when they were hurt. Marie and Cathy said that pain burns calories, and self-pity can be treated with Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies. Beth, on the other hand, believes in chicken soup. It’s all in the bag, so take your pick.”

“Really?” She peered inside. Sure enough, there were enough treats inside to compete with an especially good Halloween haul. And the soup was the boxed kind.

She loved the boxed kind with the little flat noodles.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He started the car and put it in Reverse. “You haven’t met my sisters? There are three of them, all older than me. They’ve been to the restaurant several times.”

“I don’t think I have.” She would have remembered. His parents had been to dinner, though. She’d seen them in the lobby but hadn’t met them yet. “You grew up here. Why did you come back?”

“My family owns Vitelli’s.”

“I know.” Vitelli’s was a large brick restaurant in the center of town. Famous for its pasta dishes and pizza, it was hugely popular with locals and tourists alike.

“I have a very large family,” he said.

“You’re lucky.” She thought about Aunt Ellen, so far away in Arizona this holiday. She’d texted photos of the new baby, a little girl with yellow fuzz on the top of her perfect little head.

“Yes,” Nico agreed. “I am.”

She fumbled in her purse for her cell phone and called Patsy. If she couldn’t haul herself up the outside steps to her condo, then a cozy room at the lodge was the next best thing.

“Sorry, honey,” her friend told her after Grace gave her the medical report. “Every single room is booked. You know how it is over the holidays.”

“That’s okay. Nico will help me get up the stairs at home.”

“No,” her driver said. “Nico won’t.”

“You’re not going home,” Patsy said, using her best motherly voice. “I went to your place and packed up some things for you and I gave them to Nico. He lives right down the street from the lodge, so it’s convenient.”

“It’s not convenient,” she protested.

“It is,” Nico said. “I have a very large, very empty house.”

“It is,” Patsy agreed. “Everything you need for overnight is in a suitcase or on hangers. By the way, you have an impressively organized closet. I’ve never known anyone who organized her outfits for the week and hung them on hangers labeled Monday, Tuesday, et cetera. It was quite amazing. Did you see that on Pinterest or invent it yourself?”

“Pinterest,” Grace admitted. “Every Sunday I organize my clothes. It saves time in the morning.”

“Someday you will have children and all of this will be a thing of the past.”

“What about putting a rollaway in my office? There would be room if we moved some of the boxes.”

Patsy sighed. “And have you limping back and forth to the ladies’ room? Wearing your flannel nightgown?”

“Well...”

“Did you get crutches?”

“Yes. And a boot I can take on and off.”

“Okay, then, sweetie. Are you on speakerphone?”

“No.”

“Go home with the handsome, sexy TV star. Let him cook you dinner and carry you around that big, glorious house he just bought. He’s a good guy, you know. Everyone likes him. He feels badly that you fell in his kitchen, so let him make it up to you.” With that, she clicked off, leaving Grace holding a silent phone.

“All set?” Nico drove past the lodge without slowing down.

“I can’t go home with you.” She actually heard herself whimper, for heaven’s sake.

“Why not?”

“It’s too...personal. I don’t even know you. Not really.”

“No time like the present,” he declared. “It’s not like we’re sharing a bed. You’ll have your own room. On the first floor. And you’ll have a private nurse.” He grinned.

“You.”

“Yep. Me. I’m going to bring you ice packs and hot tea and, if you’re lucky, I might even read you to sleep.”

She leaned back against the cushioned seat back and closed her eyes. “I do not believe this is happening. This morning I thought I had everything under control.”

“You have another option.”

“I do?” She kept her eyes closed. She didn’t believe it for a minute, especially since his voice held that thread of humor she had begun to recognize.

“I can, somehow, with enormous brute strength, haul you up your stairs and get you inside your home.”

“Sounds good to me. What’s the catch?”

“Then I stay with you. I can fetch and carry and dispense medication and sleep on the couch. You have a couch, don’t you?”

“Nope,” Grace lied, finding the idea of this almost-stranger poking around her home embarrassing. “I only have an antique rocking chair. Oak. Hard as a rock.”

“No big brown recliner with cup holders?”

“Not even a lumpy futon.”

“Well, that settles it, then.”

She reluctantly opened her eyes. They were well on their way out of town, heading away from her place and toward Mirror Lake Road. Her foot throbbed. She was hungry and thirsty and sleepy. She reached into the plastic bag and pulled out the M&M’s. It only took a few seconds to open the candy and self-medicate.

“YOU REALLY DO have a ramp.”

“Yeah. You thought I would lie about a ramp?” Nico carried Grace from the neatly plowed driveway toward his house. “The previous owners were a hundred and ten years old.”

“You didn’t have to carry me,” she said, protesting once again. The woman was extremely hard to spoil, he thought. Here he was doing the knight-in-shining-armor routine and she’d rather be limping downhill in the cold, dark night. He wished he could have pulled the car into the garage, but it was filled with a boat, six kayaks and two Jet Skis, all of which belonged to his sisters and their assorted husbands and children.

“It’s fifteen degrees out, in case you haven’t noticed. This is faster.” Plus, he got to hold her in his arms. He shook his head at the sappy thought. He hadn’t held anyone for over seven months, which, of course, no one would believe. His sisters had offered to fix him up with their friends and their friends’ younger sisters, cousins and coworkers, but he wasn’t interested.

He’d been waiting. He was thirty-five and he knew what—and who—he wanted. Maybe he’d get lucky and get his wish.

“I’ve driven past this house so many times,” Grace said. “I always liked how it sat on the hill and looked over the road to the lake. I like all of the houses around here.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He was grateful for the automatic lights that lit the walkway to the back door and bathed it in a light bright enough to help him find the right key. “I’m going to set you down for a second, all right? But hold on to me. I just need to unlock the door.”

“I’m okay.” She clutched the plastic shopping bag and her purse in one hand, his sleeve in the other.

Al’s excited barking began. The mutt didn’t believe in barking at strangers, only people who had keys. The sound of a key in the lock sent him into raptures of joy.

“You have a dog!”

“I do. Does that surprise you?”

“A little,” she admitted. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“I don’t think you know what type I am,” Nico replied. “Brace yourself. He might wag you off your feet.” Al, his aging yellow Labrador mix, blocked the foyer. He woofed and wagged, torn between greeting Nico and his curiosity over the visitor. Nico noticed that Grace properly held her hand out for Al to sniff, but anyone could see that the dog wasn’t the least bit aggressive.

“Hi, Al.” Grace stroked the dog’s head, but she kept hold of Nico’s arm. “Are you glad to see us?”

“He spends most of his days, when I’m working, with my oldest sister. She lives farther up the hill, not far from here. She spoils him rotten. I hired my nephew to take him for walks after school.” Very slow walks, since the dog had grown lame from arthritis. He preferred to hang out by the gas stove and sleep on his heated dog bed. “They bring him home after dinner and he spends his evenings sleeping.”

“You are such a good dog,” Grace told him, and Al wriggled as best he could in response to the compliment.

Nico managed to maneuver Grace onto the bench by the door, next to Al’s water and food bowls, and then helped her remove her coat and the one tennis shoe. She left her socks on, which looked adorably sexy with the sleek red dress.

“I’m going to carry you again,” he said, lifting her into his arms, and for once she didn’t protest. She looked paler than she had at the clinic, more fragile. He needed to get her settled, as he’d promised. They walked down the hall, past the laundry room and a bathroom, then into the kitchen. Al pattered behind them, staying close.

“Your favorite room, of course.”

“Of course.” The original dark wood cabinets stretched to the ceiling, the appliances were from the 1980s, the counter an old cracked white Formica. “I’ll need to replace the countertop and the appliances soon,” he explained. “But I don’t want to change it too much.”

A large battered pine farm table stretched along one side of the room under the expanse of windows, sixteen chairs around it. The table, which once belonged to a nearby summer camp, had been the first thing he’d bought for the house. His sister Marie had found an assortment of wooden chairs at estate sales and had painted them the palest shade of blue.

“Your house is beautiful,” she murmured, gazing into the living area that faced the lake. “It looks like everyone’s fantasy of the perfect Victorian summer home, only better.”

“I haven’t had time to buy much furniture.” Al’s enormous dog bed sat in front of the fireplace, a twin for the one that graced the lobby of the lodge. He owned one tan sofa—a reject from his parents—and an old round coffee table, which had been left there by the previous owners. Two plastic laundry baskets full of toys sat in one corner, an enormous and very bare Christmas tree in the other, though hills of wrapped gifts lined the wall under the windows. Seen through Grace’s eyes, the place would seem pretty sparse. As if he wasn’t doing it justice or something. Suddenly he doubted his wisdom in bringing her here. “Getting the restaurant back up to—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Grace interrupted, her voice soft. “You should take your time, buy only what you want, what feels right.”

“Exactly,” he said. That was the way he operated. He waited for exactly what he wanted, which might explain why Grace was here, in his arms and in his house. “It drives my sisters crazy. They’re dying to decorate this place.”

“You have a close family.”

“Close would be an understatement. Three sisters, three brothers-in-law, a nephew, four nieces and another baby on the way. They are constantly in and out of here.”

“Which explains the toys in the living room.”

“And the jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table. Anna is eleven and she’s crazy about them. It can get a little hectic.” But he was never more grateful to his sisters than he was now. Marie and her three children, who lived less than half a mile away, took care of Al. Cathy came every Monday and cleaned, telling him she needed the exercise and the excuse to get out of the house with the kids, who were two and four. Beth, the sister with an MBA, oversaw his investments, handled his money and managed his manager. His parents ran Vitelli’s, with the help of their three daughters, two excellent assistants, a head chef and an aging but devoted staff.

He headed past the living room to the master bedroom, a large white-walled room with a king-size bed and its own bathroom, complete with soaking tub and separate shower.

“Here you go,” he said, setting Grace on the quilt-covered bed.

“This is your room.” She frowned up at him. “I can’t take your bed.”

“I don’t sleep here. My room and office are upstairs, along with two more bedrooms and two bathrooms.”

“Really?” Those beautiful blue eyes held doubt.

“Really.” He grabbed the neatly placed bed pillows and tucked them behind her. “Time for dinner and pain pills. And ice.”

He handed her the remote control and pointed to the television set mounted on the wall across the room. “See? All the comforts of home.”

“I just need my cell phone.”

“I’ll get it,” he assured her, moving away from the bed. He hoped Patsy had handled any emergencies, though what could go wrong with pizza and raffles in the bar? He’d donated gift certificates to the restaurant and also to Vitelli’s, as his parents supported every charity in town.

“Thank you.” Grace winced as she stretched out her foot. “You didn’t have to go to all of this trouble, but it feels really, really good to lie down.”

“Good. I’ll come back with your things and then you can tell me what you want to eat.”

“I get to boss around the famous Nico Vitelli?”

“Not many people can say that,” he said, fleeing the room before he said something stupid, like, You can boss me around for the rest of my life if you want.

“ARE YOU GOING to need any help getting your clothes off?”

Grace looked up from her tray of food. He’d brought her ravioli stuffed with some kind of wonderful cheese filling and drizzled with a light pesto sauce. He’d offered salad and an apple tart, but she’d politely refused. He’d left her to eat while he took Al outside, but he’d been in and out of the room making sure she had everything she needed.

“I think I can manage.” She eyed the crutches propped against the nightstand. “I’m pretty sure I can get my nightgown on without falling over.”

“Well, if I hear a crash I’ll come racing in and pick your naked body up off the floor, so don’t lock the door.”

“Okay.” She felt herself blush again and hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Dinner was delicious,” she said, changing the subject from nude bodies to food.

Al padded over and rested his chin on the mattress next to her hip, so she reached over and stroked his head. The dog closed his eyes and inched closer.

“He’ll want to sleep with you,” Nico warned. “Don’t be too nice.”

“I don’t mind. There’s plenty of room.” She’d had a dog after her mother passed away, a little spaniel mix that followed her everywhere. He had died during her junior year of high school, and stepmother number three had refused to consider adopting another, which had left a pretty big gap when it came to having someone to love.

“Not a good idea. What if he rolled over on your foot?”

“It’s my right foot. He can sleep on the left side. If he wants to.”

“I usually carry him upstairs at night.”

“You do?”

“His hind legs are bad. He can’t do stairs.”

That was a sweet picture, the fancy Hollywood chef carrying his old dog to bed. “Did he live with you in California?”

“Yes. He loved the pool.”

“I’ll bet.” Al leaned closer and whined. Nico leaned over and removed the tray. “What else can I get you? Tea? Coffee? Cookies? My mother sent over a platter two days ago. She’s obsessed with baking right now.”

“I could eat a dozen cookies, so don’t tempt me.” She set her cell phone on the nightstand. The pain pill she’d taken before dinner was making her drowsy, and now that she’d checked her messages, all she wanted to do was crash. “I got interesting news from Julie Barrett.”

“The runaway bride?”

“Don’t call her that. She didn’t run away. She just...changed her mind. Better than marrying the wrong man.”

Nico perched on the edge of the bed and looked at her foot, now devoid of the boot and covered with an ice pack. “There would be nothing worse than marrying the wrong person. Have you ever been married?” he asked.

“No.”

“Engaged?”

She hesitated. “No. I thought we were heading in that direction, but I was wrong. What about you?”

“No. My friends tell me I’m too fussy. My mother says I’m too old and set in my ways. And my father tells me not to worry, I’ll know when I meet the right woman.”

“My father has been married three times and engaged twice. He has a new girlfriend every year.”

“And your mother?”

“She died when I was twelve. Cancer. They were divorced before that, though. But we all lived in the same small town north of Boston. She was a teacher.”

“You must miss her. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I was lucky to have my aunt Ellen. That’s how I ended up working here, in upstate New York.” Those summers with her aunt and cousins had saved her from cranky stepmothers and emotional scenes between her father and the women he loved and left.

“So, what was the message from Julie Barrett?”

“She’s given her wedding to Noelle.”

“Noelle? At the lodge?”

“Yes. She’s engaged to Ted and they were planning a small, inexpensive wedding. I guess Julie and Noelle talked and Julie gave her the entire thing. Most of it had been paid for, and Noelle’s wedding won’t be as big, so it shouldn’t cost Ted and Noelle anything, unless they have an open bar.”

“Dinner for eighty-five people,” Nico said. “Beef Wellington. The Barrett family wouldn’t get much of their deposit back anyway.”

“Now it won’t go to waste. What do you think?”

“The food was never going to go to waste,” he said. “Not in my kitchen.”

“But the cake. And the decorations. And the flowers.” She sighed contentedly. “All the beautiful flowers.”

“I think it’s a very kind and generous gesture.”

Grace blinked back tears. “I think so, too. I mean, Noelle has that little boy, and Ted has to go back overseas, someplace dangerous—did you know he’s a Green Beret?—and they will just love the fairy lights in the jars and the pinecone place-card holders and the little jingle bells, don’t you think?” Her voice caught on a sob.

“Grace?”

“I love weddings,” she whispered. “I always wanted to get married on Christmas Eve. You know, to make it special?”

He leaned forward and took her into his arms. “Oh, Grace. All weddings are special. Or should be. You make them that way.”

She flopped against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. “This is so embarrassing.”

“What? Crying? I grew up with three sisters. I am totally used to it.”

“I should have watched where I was going.” She’d been concentrating on avoiding Nico’s smile instead of looking for dangerous, fallen Christmas decorations.

“I’m selfishly glad you didn’t.” He pulled back slightly and smiled down at her. “This has been a memorable first date.”

“I’m only crying because I took Percocet,” she sputtered. “Pain medication makes me emotional.”

“Well, then,” he murmured, folding her back into his arms. “Weep away.”

CHAPTER FOUR

SHE WOKE UP next to the dog. He was a comfortable and warm weight stretched against her side, but he snored. Not that the noise had bothered her. It was after eight o’clock and she was due at work in an hour. She’d need every minute to get ready.

“Good morning, Al.”

His tail thumped once and he wriggled closer, his eyes closed. Grace patted his rump and eased herself to a sitting position. Her foot throbbed, but not as painfully as last night. She’d managed to get into her nightgown without Nico’s help—Patsy had selected her only flannel gown instead of one of her many cute pajama sets.

After her weepy breakdown, he’d offered to help her out of her clothes to make her laugh. She’d refused, making him laugh. He’d fixed her a cup of herbal tea and delivered it, with an assortment of his mother’s cookies, to the nightstand while she was in the bathroom washing the tears from her face.

She would never, ever take Percocet in a man’s presence again. Not unless the man was her husband and she had just given birth to triplets.

She managed to climb out of bed and brush her teeth with the help of her crutches before she heard the knock on the door.

“Come on in.” She was resigned to the fact that he would see her dressed like a ninety-year-old woman. He may as well see what she’d be wearing when she was ninety.

He opened the door and peered in. “Hey. How are you doing?”

“Okay.” She sat on the bed and wished she could crawl back in next to Al, who was pretending to be asleep. Nico looked wide-awake, cheerful and heart-stoppingly handsome. The man looked ready to flip a thousand pancakes.

“Did you sleep?”

“Al and I both were practically comatose.” She wished she’d put on makeup. Patsy had emptied the entire contents of her bathroom drawer into a gallon ziplock bag, so she had no excuse for not putting on lipstick and eyeliner, for heaven’s sake.

“You look a lot better than you did last night.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “You’re not as pale. How’s the pain?”

“Not bad at all,” she fibbed.

“Can you walk?”

“With the crutches.”

He looked over at her bed. “Al! Time to go out!”

The Labrador didn’t budge.

“I know he’s alive.” Grace laughed. “He wagged his tail for me a few minutes ago.”

“He’s faking it. He hates snow.” Nico looked at Grace. “Want some coffee before I haul him out of here?”

“Yes. Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll bring it to you. Cream, no sugar, right?”

“How did you know that?”

“The executive chef at The View knows everything,” he informed her. “Stay right where you are. I haven’t brought a woman coffee in bed for days.”

“Very funny,” she said to his back as he left the bedroom. Or maybe he wasn’t joking. According to the tabloids, Nico’s social circle had once included the Kardashians and Sports Illustrated models. She hadn’t heard of him dating anyone in Lake Placid, but then again, there were plenty of beautiful women on the ski slopes and at the Olympic park. She wondered if any of them wore light blue flannel dotted with pink roses.

“Woof.”

She heard the child’s voice the same time Al did.

“Woof, woof!” Al finally raised his big head and turned brown eyes in her direction.

“Hey, Al! Wanna go for a ride?”

“Woof woof woof!” came the answer, just as a tall, thin boy ran into the room.

“Hey, Al, what are—”

The boy skidded to a stop, turning a pair of dark eyes toward Grace. He had the same head of thick dark waves as Nico, the same angular features and easy smile. He was dressed in a warm jacket and knitted cap, and his gloved hands held a bright blue leash.

“Whoa,” he said, sounding exactly like his uncle. Grace assumed this child had to be Nico’s nephew, the one who took his dog for walks and lived nearby. “Uncle Nico has company!” the boy called over his shoulder before returning to Grace.

“Hi,” he said.

The dog suddenly came to life and let out another happy bark before easing himself off the bed to greet his friend.

“Hi. I’m Grace,” she said, wishing she was dressed but glad she wore flannel at the very least. The boy’s mother stepped into the room and stopped as soon as she saw Grace.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” she managed to say. She was tall, with short dark brown hair and a handsome, angular face. Dressed in jeans and a puffy red vest with matching sweater, she looked as ready to take on winter as her son. “I didn’t know Nico had company.”

“I’m Grace Clarke.” She held out her hand and attempted to get to her feet, but Nico’s sister intervened.

“Marie O’Rourke. And this is Brian, my son. You’re hurt.” She put out a hand to stop Grace from moving. “Stay where you are.” Her gaze darted to Grace’s nightgown, then to her booted foot and on to the rumpled bed. “What happened?”

Nico came to the rescue. He stepped into the room and handed Grace a mug of coffee. “Grace works at the lodge. She slipped in the kitchen last night and I brought her home.”

“Does it hurt?” Brian asked.

“Yes. But not as much as it did last night,” Grace said. “And Al kept me company.”

The dog leaned against Brian and licked his hand.

“I hung your clothes in the closet,” Nico said, jerking a thumb to one of the wide doors opposite the windows.

“Thanks, Nico. And thanks for the coffee.”

“Are you up to go in to work or do you want to hang out here for a few hours?”

“It’s Secret Santa day,” she reminded him. “Staff brunch at 10:00 a.m., remember?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. We drew names?”

Maria turned to him. “Isn’t that why you asked Cathy to make you a—”

He put his hand over her mouth. “Secret Santa, big sister. They take these things seriously at the lodge.” Nico turned to his nephew. “Come on, let’s give Grace some privacy.” He ushered the dog, his sister and his nephew out of the room and shut the door behind them.

“As soon as they leave I’ll make you a frittata,” he whispered. “With a crunchy potato layer that will make you weep with joy.”

She thought of the calories. Her mouth watered. Her foot throbbed.

Her heart melted.

CHAPTER FIVE

“YOU’VE GOT IT BAD, little brother.”

“I’m going to pretend you’re not here.” Nico didn’t bother to argue. Once Marie decided something, the sun would have to fall out of the sky to change her mind. How her mild-mannered husband stayed sane was a mystery to the entire family. Ignoring the cold, he leaned against the back door’s frame and waited for his sister to continue, as he knew she would.

“She’s beautiful. And she spent the night.”

“She slept with Al, not me.”

“So you say.” She eyed him speculatively. “Wait till Mom hears about this. She’ll think Christmas came early.”

“Mom doesn’t have to know anything.”

“What? Are you kidding? Brian’s going over there to decorate cookies again this afternoon. You think he’s not going to tell his grandma that Uncle Nico had a friend over? A pretty female friend with a boot on her foot, just like the one that Elizabeth in Mrs. Rayak’s class had last year when she fell off the ski lift?”

“I could pay him. What’s the going rate for keeping his mouth shut?”

Marie shrugged. “He’s not motivated by money. Unfortunately. I offered him five dollars not to tell his father that I said three very bad words when that guy backed into me last week.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“Oh, his insurance company will pay for it. There was a witness.”

“I meant with Brian.” Nico liked the kid. For a nine-year-old, he pretty much had it together. He managed to tiptoe through the minefield of having an older sister and a younger one quite well. His ability to stay calm and detached in the midst of female drama made him more like his father than the Vitelli side of his family.

“He told me he had heard worse at school and to be cool.”

“You are cool.”

“I am,” Marie said. “I’m forty-two and I’m definitely cool. Now, let’s talk about you.”

“I’m going to ask her to dinner Thursday.”

“That’s Christmas Eve.”

“I know.”

“That’s big.”

“I’m aware of that. I hope the family doesn’t scare her off.”

“Nico, we’ll be on our best behavior.” She frowned. “I mean, we’ll do our best. Maybe ‘best behavior’ is a little optimistic. But for you to bring a woman to Christmas Eve? This is really big. How long have you known her?”

“Since I started work here. I see her almost every day at the lodge.” And I’ve been half in love with her since the first minute I saw her.

Nico thought it wise not to say that aloud.

“She’s why you wouldn’t let us fix you up. How long have you been, uh, dating her?”

“I’ve been, uh, dating her since last night.” He enjoyed the look of surprise on his sister’s face. “I told you, she fell in the kitchen at work and hurt her ankle. I brought her home to help her out. To take care of her.”

“And now we’re back where we started,” his sister said. “You’ve got it bad.”

“I do,” Nico admitted. “But it’s not mutual. Yet.”

“It will be,” Marie assured him, giving him a quick hug. “Just be your charming self. And ply her with chocolate. Women like that.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”

“You’ve never failed at anything you set out to do.” She frowned. “Except when you tried out for football. That was pretty much a disaster.”

“I’ve put on some muscle since then.” But he would never be able to throw a ball fifty yards and actually hit a target.

“Don’t be too charming,” Marie warned. “That California stuff was ridiculous.” She gave him another hug. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Me, too.” He waved them off, watched Al lift his leg on his favorite holly bush and then turned back to the house.

He would romance Grace with food and attention. She was a very private person, but she’d let down her guard a little last night.

And she’d smiled at him when he’d brought her coffee.

That was a promising start to the day.

THE FUTURE BRIDE was the happiest person in the Wildwood event room, but Grace was the most pampered. She sat at a table close to the fireplace, her legs resting on the seat of another chair, her narrow skirt tucked primly over her knees. On one foot she wore a golden tan suede knee-high boot. On the other was the decidedly unfashionable walking boot, with one of Nico’s white athletic socks underneath it to keep her toes warm.

Nico Vitelli hovered over her, something that did not go unnoticed by the staff attending the Christmas brunch. Between Nico’s interesting behavior and the news of Noelle’s wedding, there was plenty for the employees of the lodge to discuss over coffee and plates piled high with food. Much to everyone’s delight, Nico had arranged a sumptuous buffet. Grace made sure the presents were piled underneath the Christmas tree and a member of the housekeeping staff had a fire burning in the fireplace.

Those who were working the morning shift took time out to have a cup of coffee and a bite of food, wish everyone a merry Christmas and open their gifts. Those on later shifts stayed longer to visit. Because the lodge was too busy in December to have a big Christmas party, the owners held an enormous outdoor party in June for the staff and their families. Grace had organized the Secret Santa brunch when she was hired at the lodge and it had quickly become a holiday tradition.

Thanks to Grace, the background music was a rousing New Orleans Christmas compilation. Patsy had agreed to hold off on Bing Crosby until after one o’clock, but only because Grace was on crutches and therefore an object of pity.

Patsy was bursting with questions, so the second Nico returned to the kitchen, she leaned closer. “Okay, tell me everything. What’s his house like? It’s the big white one about half a mile down the street, right? With the big porch?”

“I didn’t notice the porch, but the house is old and big and gorgeous.” She took a bite of a cinnamon roll. Just one bite wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“And where did you sleep? Did he make you dinner?”

“I slept in the guest room. He bought me candy. And made me breakfast. And served me coffee in bed.” She didn’t want to admit she’d enjoyed every minute. She didn’t want her friend to think she was crushing on the Hollywood chef. “By the way, why did you pack the granny gown instead of my pajamas?”

“In case you were in a cast. Can’t get pants on over a cast, you know.”

“I never thought of that.”

“You’ve never had a kid with a broken leg. I looked for something silk, with lace, but all you had were jogging pants and T-shirts.”

“I like silk and lace,” Grace sputtered. “But it’s winter. Silk and lace are stored with my summer things.”

Patsy sighed. “Of course they are.”

“How many calories do you think there are in one of these?” She held up a star-shaped sugar cookie frosted with pink-and-yellow icing.

“Zero. It’s Christmas. Calories don’t count. Were you surprised when you got Julie Barrett’s phone call?”

“I was thrilled.” Grace smiled. “It was absolutely perfect.”

“This is a nice turn of events.” Patsy took a bite of a star-shaped cookie. “Noelle deserves something good.”

“It’s going to be fun to put this together. This morning I showed her everything I had planned and she was thrilled with it all. She said she felt like she’d won the lottery. I left a message for Julie to tell her how kind that was.” Grace wriggled in her seat, trying to ease a cramp in her calf.

“What’s wrong?”

“The darn thing hurts more than I thought it would,” she admitted. “It’s just a simple sprain, but the doctor said it could be uncomfortable for quite a while.”

“I’m sorry,” Patsy said. “I know I’ve teased you about going home with Nico, but this really is a bad time to be limping around on crutches, even with Mr. Hollywood over there helping you out.” They both watched Nico laughing with two blushing housemaids. “But at least the wedding was all planned. And if you have a lot of running around to do, I can take care of it for you.”

“Thanks. I can put together the decorations while I’m sitting down. Noelle said she’d help in any way she can, but she has a lot of things to pull together in two days.”

“She told me she had the dress, though, so that’s one of the big things crossed off her list.”

They saw Noelle and her son enter the room. Josh whispered something to his mother and then made a beeline for the buffet table. Noelle approached Nico, who seemed to be taking the role of host seriously.

“He’s so darn cute. I’ve never seen a boy who eats so much, but then again, I raised a girl,” Patsy commented.

“Noelle says all of his friends are like that.” She wondered what it would be like to raise a son by herself. But now Noelle and Josh had Ted, and the Green Beret appeared to be the kind of man a boy could look up to. They watched as Nico and Noelle talked for a moment. He gave her a quick hug and then turned to Grace and smiled.

“Please tell me he cooked for you,” Patsy pleaded. “I have to know.”

“He did.” And now he was heading toward them.

“So you and George Clooney have something in common,” Patsy teased.

“Who would have guessed?’

Nico, carrying a cup of coffee, joined them at the table. His white chef’s jacket made him look terribly sexy, in a television star kind of way. He plopped into the empty chair next to Grace.

“Good morning, Patsy.” He looked at the open box in front of her. “What’d you get?”

“Shower gel. Love it.”

He turned to Grace. “Whose name did you have?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Sure you can. I had Carol, in Housekeeping. I bought her gourmet birdseed. She has parakeets.”

Impressed, Grace had to ask, “Does ten dollars buy a lot of fancy birdseed?”

“It does, surprisingly.”

Patsy looked fascinated. “And you knew she had parakeets because...?”

“I went to school with her husband. I ran into him at the pet store. Al has a corn allergy.”

“Who’s Al?”

“His dog,” Grace told her.

“Oh. I didn’t know dogs could have allergies.”

“It gives them skin conditions. Here’s your gift,” Nico said, setting a silver gift bag in front of Grace. “It was under the tree, in the back.”

“Thank you.” She’d meant to go over and find her gift, but the thought of hobbling over there on crutches had stopped her.

“Are you going to open it?”

“Grace always saves hers,” Patsy said.

“I like to open gifts on Christmas morning.” She savored the presents tucked under her little tree. Her father would send a check, but her aunt’s and cousin’s gifts were already there, waiting to be opened. She would add this pretty silver bag to the others. The tag dangling from the silver ribbon had Grace printed on it in a woman’s handwriting. “Did you cheat again and take my name, Pats?”

“Nope.” She chuckled. “I cheated and took Noelle’s.”

“Patsy is in charge of name distribution,” Grace told Nico. “She volunteers every year so she can pick who she wants to give a gift to.”

“And then it’s random,” Patsy insisted. “Totally up to fate.”

Hmm. Fate had assigned Grace the challenge of buying a gift for Nico. With the stipulation that a gift could cost no less than five dollars and no more than ten, she’d struggled to come up with something remotely appropriate for a man who cooked professionally. She’d opted for a practical gift instead. Patsy had set her up and she knew it.

“Where’s yours?” Grace asked. What had he thought of the telescoping ice scraper for his car? It was difficult to wrap, so she’d covered it in red tissue paper, tied a bow and a name tag on it and stored it in her office for the past week. She’d asked Patsy to sneak it into the room and prop it up near the tree.

“My fancy snow-removal tool is in my office where no one can steal it.” He grinned. “I guess someone assumes I’m not prepared for winter.”

“Or wants to make sure you’re safe,” Patsy suggested.

“Or saw you cleaning your windshield with a scraper from the dollar store,” Grace added.

“Come to think of it, you did see me doing that once,” he said. “And you loaned me yours. So thank you.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s from me,” she said, but she smiled at him.

“True.” He pushed the silver bag closer to her. “Open it. I can’t stand the suspense.”

It wasn’t from Nico, thank goodness. Patsy hadn’t gone so far as to arrange that, which was a relief. He’d bought birdseed.

“I have something for you,” her friend said. “You can take that home and add it to your pile.”

“Don’t you think it’s more fun to wait?”

“Sometimes,” Nico said. “When you don’t have any other choice.”

She lifted the tissue from the top of the bag and pulled out a fluffy knit scarf composed of blended shades of aquamarine and light blue.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!”

Patsy agreed, touching the wool. “It feels like alpaca. Or mohair?”

“I don’t know,” Grace said, “but it’s so soft.”

“And matches your eyes,” Nico declared. “Are you sure you don’t have a secret admirer? Other than me, I mean.”

“Stop teasing,” she said, fingering the scarf. “It looks handmade.”

“Someone must have made it especially for you,” Patsy said, shooting Nico a suspicious look.

He ignored her. “Aren’t you glad you opened it? You can wear it tonight when I drive you home.”

“Home to my place,” Grace said.

“Home to mine,” he countered. “We have a wedding to organize, remember?”

“No, we don’t. It’s all done. We can finalize the details later this afternoon.” She intended to dip ornaments in glitter and assemble the lights in the canning jars while she kept her foot elevated. The darn thing had already begun to ache more than she thought it would. Spending another night being pampered by Nico sounded more tempting than she wanted to admit to herself.

“Al will be heartbroken.”

“There is one thing you two might need to consider,” Patsy interjected.

“What?”

“A bridal shower.”

“A bridal shower?” Grace hadn’t even thought about something like that for this last-minute wedding, but why not? “When?”

“Tomorrow night,” Patsy said. “Noelle’s friends on staff have been talking. You know how close they are. We could invite Noelle’s and Ted’s friends, plus some of the family. They wondered if they could hold it here. A couples thing. They talked to me about it last night because they didn’t want to bother you until they knew you were okay.”

“This room is available,” Grace said, considering the possibility. “It was originally reserved for the rehearsal dinner.”

“The ex-groom said he hoped the preparations wouldn’t go to waste,” Patsy said.

“Yes. I got that message,” Nico replied. “ Mason wanted Ted and Noelle to have whatever couldn’t be refunded.”

“So we use Wildwood for a couples shower?” Grace saw Noelle and her son near the Christmas tree. Josh found a present with his name on it—Grace had made sure there would be something for him—and held it up to his mother. “If Noelle and her fiancé agree.”

“Or we could surprise them,” Nico suggested.

Patsy nodded. “I think her friends would like that idea.”

“Well,” Nico drawled, looking at Grace. “The romance continues.”

CHAPTER SIX

“YOU MISSED THE MOVIE,” Nico said, stepping into Grace’s office. He stopped, taking in the rows of red ornaments covering her desk and the folding table opened to its six-foot length. Grace sat with her leg propped up on a metal folding chair. She was attaching something to a jar lid with white duct tape.

“The snowboarding preview? Was it good?”

“I looked in a few times. The crowd was certainly into it.” He came closer. “What are you doing?”

“Putting batteries in two dozen sets of lights.” She held up a plastic box. “This holds the batteries. Then I tape one to the underside of the canning jar lid and put the lights in the jar. When they’re turned on they make a pretty decoration.”

“These are for the wedding, I assume?” She looked tired. And she had silver glitter on her chin and her right cheek. He suspected she was hurting, too. He wanted nothing more than to scoop her into his arms, haul her out of the office and put her to bed, where he would tuck pillows around her and feed her. Chicken medallions sautéed in white wine, with capers. A little pasta, perhaps.

“Yes. I spent the afternoon fixing the ornaments.”

“I see that.” He eyed the rows of glittered balls. “Don’t you have any help? I thought you had an assistant.” He was sure he’d seen a tall young woman following Grace around, assembling floral arrangements and guiding guests to various events.

“Just part-time. She’s in college and she went to Mexico for the holidays.”

“Not good timing.”

“I didn’t mind. After the wedding, the rest of the holidays will be fairly quiet until New Year’s Eve. Then I have a wedding in the afternoon and one in the evening, remember? Both are fairly small. I’d offer you a seat, but—”

“You can have one of my interns,” Nico said, frowning at the pain in those beautiful eyes of hers. “Jilly is never going to be a chef. She cried twice today, so I think she’d jump at the chance to, uh, light up jars.”

“You made her cry?”

“Of course not.” He was taken aback. “Not all television chefs scream at their employees. I may have lost it a few times with idiot guests, but never with the people who work for me. Jilly is just overwhelmed, I think. She’ll do fine in her own kitchen at home. Or maybe with a small catering business. She’d jump at the chance to get off the line.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he assured her. “And the kitchen will be a better place without her. She’s yours, but only if you will quit this madness and come home. It’s after eight, dinner service has wound down and I’m free to get out of here.”

She hesitated, just as he knew she would, but he was prepared.

“We’re both tired, Grace. And all your stuff is still at my house. Patsy brought over your Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday outfits.” He didn’t need to add that she was in pain, because he could see from her face that she was tempted to return to his house, where there were no stairs and that big guest bedroom awaited. He’d already put on his jacket—he was ready to get out of there for the night.

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” She sighed. “Patsy shouldn’t have assumed I’d be staying with you for more than one night.”

He wanted to laugh, but he managed to control himself. “It’s my fault you hurt yourself.”

“I blame the shoes.”

He shrugged. “Come on, sweetheart.” He retrieved her crutches from where they leaned against the wall by the door. “Gather your things together and I’ll bring you to the car.”

“I guess it really is easier this way.” She winced as she moved her foot from the chair.

“It is,” he agreed, carefully avoiding the ornaments as she stepped around the desk. “We can plan the shower tonight over dinner.”

She groaned.

“What?” he asked. “You don’t want to do the shower? Or is dinner a bad thing?”

“Dinner is a very bad thing.” She sighed again. “I love your cooking.”

“I’m glad. So what’s the problem?” He lifted the blue scarf from its bag and placed it around her neck.

“Calories,” she said. “Lots and lots of calories.”

“Olive oil is good for you.” He smiled down into her blue eyes. “And you don’t have to worry about calories.”

“You only think that because I do worry about calories,” she pointed out. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” She had the most gorgeous skin. The occasional dot of red glitter made her look like a Christmas ornament.

“Never mind.” The pink in her cheeks deepened.

“Like I want to kiss you?”

She gave him that little frown, the one that he found so intriguing. She thought it hid her feelings, but he had learned to see through it. He couldn’t resist leaning closer to touch his lips to hers for just a moment. A brief, satisfying moment.

His intentions were honorable, the kiss declared.

She was his, the kiss said.

Everything was right in the world, the kiss proclaimed.

Nico backed away as if nothing had happened.

“Is any of this stuff going back to the house with us?” He was pleased that he sounded so casual and normal when all he wanted to do was take her into his arms and kiss her for a week. Or a month. Maybe a year would be long enough.

“No.” She cleared her throat and stared up at him for a long moment. “I’m done. For now.”

“Great.” He lifted her coat from its hook behind the door. “I had one of the kids bring my car around to the front.”

“You really think ahead.” She stood and held on to her desk.

“I do,” he confessed. “Sometimes too much.”

“Well,” she said, putting her arms in the sleeves of the coat as he held it. “I would think that was a good thing. As a chef.”

“I like to be prepared,” he said. “To know I have everything I need when I want to cook. And then sometimes there’s the challenge of having only a few items and needing to make a meal out of them. Do you cook, Grace?”

“I’m the queen of casseroles,” she said, surprising him. “I learned early on that if I didn’t make dinner I wouldn’t eat anything but takeout or frozen fish sticks.”

“Your father wasn’t home?”

“He was dating. At first I thought he was just lonely. I moved in with him after my mother died, but I was in sixth grade and I wasn’t the best company.”

Nico thought of his niece, a sensitive child around the same age. He couldn’t imagine her father leaving her alone while he ran after women. “And then?”

She picked up her huge bag and turned. “What?”

“You said ‘at first,’” he explained, scooping her into his arms. “At first you thought he was lonely. What happened?”

“I felt sorry for him. And for myself. He’d take me to my aunt’s on weekends, which was fine with me. I realized he just didn’t have much interest in me. I hadn’t even seen him that much when my mother was alive. My aunt told me he was a fool.”

“I think I’d like your aunt.” He stopped at the door so she could flick the lights off.

“She is a very blunt, very kind person. Everyone loves her.”

“I’ll look forward to meeting her. Has she been to the restaurant?”

“Several times,” she said. “But that was before you came.”

“When she comes again I’ll make her something special.”

Grace didn’t protest as he walked down the hall with her in his arms. Several guests stared and smiled. The woman at the front desk waved. An incoming guest held the front door open for them. In minutes he’d tucked her into the front seat, driven her to his house and carried her into his kitchen.

Nico felt positively heroic. Now all he had to do was figure out how to convince Grace to stay forever.

CHAPTER SEVEN

AL SMILED AT HER.

Nico pampered her.

The wine in her glass warmed her.

Oh, my. The man was dangerous. That kiss, well, she’d yet to put it out of her mind. He’d surprised her, and she’d surprised herself by how much that brief, intimate contact had affected her. She’d had to pretend it was nothing, of course, as he had. And now, with aching foot propped up on a chair, Grace watched the most handsome man she had ever seen—well, apart from Bradley Cooper—fix dinner. It was late, after nine o’clock, but he seemed to have limitless energy. On his television show he’d created a whirlwind of enthusiastic food preparations—chopping, slicing, tossing things into pans and hauling dishes out of immaculate ovens, all while he talked and explained and gave measurements.

Why had he left Hollywood, or wherever it was in California that these things were taped? She’d asked him yesterday, but he hadn’t answered the question. Grace reached down and patted Al’s head. “What are you making?”

“Something light,” he said. “Chicken medallions. With wine and lemon. You won’t have to obsess over calories. And you can skip dessert.”

“Dessert?” Do not think about dessert, she told herself. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since the Santa brunch, deciding it was safer to sip herbal tea at her desk and avoid Marie’s afternoon cookie offering.

“My mother left another platter of sugar cookies. She and the kids decorated them today. They’re for Christmas Eve, but she’ll never know if we eat a few.”

“She sounds like a wonderful grandmother.”

“She is.”

“Why did you come back? Was it to help your family?”

He took a sip of wine, put a lid on the pan of chicken and walked over to the table, where he pulled out a chair and glanced at his watch. “We’ll eat in just a few minutes, I promise.”

“Sorry, it’s none of my business,” Grace said. “Tell me about your nieces and nephew.”

“I came home,” he said, fiddling with the stem of his wineglass, “because I missed them.”

“You were homesick?” She tried to hide her surprise.

He winced. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s the truth.” Then he looked at her, the expression in his dark eyes unreadable. “What’s your definition of success, Grace?”

“A successful life or a successful job?”

“Life.”

She thought about that for a long moment. “To be financially secure, I suppose. And I’d like to have a family.” To love the same man until the day she died. To be a good mother. To surround herself with love.

“Are you happy with your work?”

“I love it. Don’t you love yours?”

He nodded. “I do, sweetheart. But California was not where I wanted to be.” Nico looked embarrassed. He reached over and caressed her hand but didn’t seem to realize he’d done it. “I had it all. A little fame, a lot of money, people catering to my every need. Most people’s definition of success, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “And then my show was canceled. That should have devastated me.”

“And it didn’t?”

He grinned. “I was thrilled. I bought a very expensive bottle of champagne and drank it with Al at my feet wagging his tail. I told him we were going home and I swear he knew what I was saying.”

He looked at the dog, who whined and wagged his tail.

“He wants dinner, too,” Grace said.

“He cries and whines like that no matter what I’m cooking. He loves pasta.” Nico shook his head. “He loves anything I put on a plate.”

“So you left Hollywood?” she prompted. She’d always thought he’d come home in disgrace, having lost his shot at the big time.

“I realized I no longer wanted to be in LA. I wanted to be around my family. I wanted to cook in my own restaurant. I wanted to train kids to work in the kitchen. And I missed skiing.” He hopped up and returned to the stove to lift the lid on the pan. “Ah,” he said with satisfaction. “You’re gonna love this. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” She watched entranced as he arranged the food on two plates, then chopped food for Al’s bowl. She waited for him to return to the table before asking the obvious question.

“So,” she said, inhaling the delicious aroma of lemon. He’d sprinkled freshly grated Parmesan on the buttered penne and arranged steamed asparagus to accent the chicken medallions. “This looks fantastic.”

“Thank you. More wine?” He lifted the bottle.

“No, thank you.” She placed the white cloth napkin in her lap, picked up her fork and knife and waited for him to finish topping off his glass. “Are you glad you came back? Do you miss LA?”

“In some ways, yes. I miss the weather. And a few friends. But I’m glad I came back. It was the right thing for me at the time.”

At the time. What did that mean? And why was it suddenly so important for her to hear that he was staying?

“You’re frowning again,” Nico said. “You haven’t tasted anything yet.”

His cell rang, saving her from having to answer. He got up and retrieved it from the counter and, with an apologetic shrug to Grace, turned it on. “Hi. What’s going on?” He listened for a moment while Grace cut a bite of chicken and tasted it. “Of course. No problem.” Pause. “No, not yet, but they look good.” Pause. “Mama,” he said, chuckling. “I will, if possible.” Pause. “Of course. I will ask. And I will call you tomorrow.” Pause. “Yes, yes, good night.”

Still laughing, Nico returned to the table. “My mother has heard that I have a new woman in my life.”

“Uh-oh. Your sister told her about this morning?” She took another bite of chicken. Heaven, she decided. The man was a genius in the kitchen.

“Marie couldn’t wait to share the good news, believe me.” He picked up his fork and stabbed at the pasta.

“I’m good news?” For some reason that struck her as funny. “Doesn’t she know you’re just helping me out for a couple of days?”

“My mother is hoping I’ll fall in love with you and she won’t have to worry about my being alone when I’m an old man.”

Didn’t his mother realize this man could have any woman he wanted? He’d charmed everyone on the staff and most customers. All he had to do was smile and women melted. Grace pushed her thoughts aside. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to fall in love with him, and she couldn’t risk that. She’d learned her lesson: stay away from men with charisma and commitment issues.

“That’s what she worries about? You being alone?”

“That’s one of many things.” He made a face. “I love them all—my mother, my sisters—but they worry too much.”

They sounded nice, Grace thought. “They care about you and they want you to be happy.”

“This is true.” He grinned. “You could make them—and me—ecstatic, you know, if you would do me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” She looked down at her empty plate. How had she eaten all of that?

His eyebrows rose. “You do owe me, sweetheart. For room and board.”

Grace choked back a laugh. “Nice try, Chef Hollywood.”

Nico groaned. “Cheap shot.”

“That’s what they called you in the tabloids. Hot Hollywood Chef, Chef Hollywood, Naughty Nico.”

“I’m not the man the media made me out to be. I never was,” he insisted, taking a sip of wine. He waved his arm toward his vintage kitchen. “Does this look like Hot Hollywood Chef style to you? The stove is green, for heaven’s sake.”

She wasn’t sure what the color of the stove had to do with Naughty Nico, but she remembered his mention of remodeling. “You’re going to modernize the kitchen, aren’t you?”

“Not exactly. I like its charm,” Nico declared. “I’ve found a designer who understands what I want.”

“A kitchen that looks like it belongs with the house but with high-end appliances and all the amenities.”

“Exactly. How did you know?”

“I watch a lot of those house-remodeling shows on HGTV,” she informed him. “I have the lingo down.”

He looked at her empty plate. “You like my food.”

“Of course.”

Nico beamed at her, stood and quickly cleared the table. “You look happy. And relaxed. And you are not in pain.”

“I took another ibuprofen.” She’d removed the boot and Nico had draped her foot with one of those refreezable ice packs from the drugstore. “It doesn’t hurt as much as it did a couple of hours ago.”

“Then let’s talk about this favor you owe me.” He returned to the table and refilled her wineglass. Grace didn’t protest. She was warm and content and even though Chef Hollywood was flirting with her again, she knew that was just part of his personality. For a Tuesday night, this was pretty darn good, as long as she kept reminding herself not to take him seriously.

“It’s Tuesday night,” she said. “I usually watch Hell’s Kitchen. Or the show with the little kids cooking. Master Chef Junior.”

“Don’t think I don’t know that you’re changing the subject,” Nico warned. “But I like the show with the children, too. We could do something like that at the lodge, you know. Just for a day. Or maybe a weekend. With some local kids.”

“Really?”

“For charity,” Nico added. “This summer?”

“I like it.” She took a sip of wine. The idea had all sorts of possibilities, so many her head swirled. Or maybe that was the wine.

“It’s almost Christmas Eve,” Nico said.

“So I’ve heard. We have a lovely wedding to work.”

“We do,” he agreed. “But before that...” He paused. “Well, actually before, during and after that, is the Vitelli family Christmas Eve party.”

“All afternoon and night?”

“Just about. We’re Italian. The cooking and eating goes on for hours.”

“And you’re going to miss it?”

“Noelle’s wedding’s at seven, cocktails after and dinner at eight-fifteen, which leaves plenty of time for photographs. Michael is itching to prove himself and we’ll have the prep done. I’ll be at my parents’ from one o’clock until five or so. I hate to miss dinner, but they understand. Everyone has commitments, the little kids have to go home and go to bed early, but somehow we’ll manage to spend a few overlapping hours together in total chaos and with enormous amounts of food.”

“All right,” Grace said. “I can oversee the setup in Wildwood. I’ll be decorating in the morning—the florist is coming early—and will have everything ready for the appetizers. Michael and I can manage without you. It’s a simple wedding and the whole staff is pitching in.”

“Sweetheart, that’s not the favor.”

She couldn’t think what else he would need. And whenever he called her “sweetheart” her brain turned to bread crumbs.

“Quit frowning at me like that,” Nico said. “I’d like you—I need you—to come to the family party.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve. It’s family.”

“Precisely. If I don’t bring you they’ll do nothing but ask me questions about you.”

“Because I’m staying here.” Or because you’ve kissed me. Because sometimes you look at me as if you are totally enthralled with the person you see? Because I blush when you tease me and secretly adore it when you take care of me? She eyed her ankle. Had a sprained ankle brought her a hint of romance? “You told them why, though?”

“Well, sure. And they’d like to meet you anyway.” He smiled. “Come on, do me a favor. If they think I’m keeping you a secret, which they do, they’ll never leave me alone.”

“Nico...” She didn’t know what to say. His family would think they were a couple. She was living in his house, for heaven’s sake. And she needed to remind herself she was only there because he felt responsible for her. Assuming there was anything else going on could only lead to major disappointment. She needed to stop thinking about kissing him and start getting a grip on reality.

“Stuffed manicotti,” he murmured, taking her hand in his. “Lasagna. Meatballs that will melt in your mouth. We don’t always do the traditional fish courses, having been corrupted by three sons-in-law whose requests for meat have to be honored. Antipasto. Cheeses. Shrimp risotto. And wine.” He stroked her palm with his thumb. “Lots of wine. Only the best Chianti. And Pinots, too.”

She groaned, but she didn’t remove her hand from his. He’d held her hand before and she’d discovered she liked that gesture. She liked that gesture very, very much. “You’re trying to bribe me with food?”

“Tiramisu like you’ve never had it before, babe,” he growled in a mock-sexy voice.

“They’ll think I’m your girlfriend,” she cautioned. “Instead of a clumsy coworker who can’t climb stairs.”

“They’ll think you’re lovely,” Nico said. He released her hand. “You’ll be doing me a favor, remember?”

“Tiramisu?”

“Tiramisu.” They clinked glasses to seal the deal. “Now,” Nico said, “let’s talk about this shower. I’m thinking hot and cold appetizers, with red and white wines, some local beer and a chocolate-dessert bar. A friend of Noelle’s called me and said she’d bring chocolates from the Candy Man. How many people are coming?”

“Thirty, maybe a few more. I think it’s mostly staff and Noelle’s and Ted’s friends. More of a party than a typical shower.”

“No games? No bouquets made of ribbons?”

“I doubt it.” Grace chuckled, and then stifled a yawn. “But Patsy’s involved, so you never know. She has a wild side.”

“Can I help you get to bed?”

“I think I’ll use the crutch so I don’t have to put the boot back on.” Grace put her foot on the floor and wiggled her sock-covered toes. “I think it’s getting better. I should be able to manage my stairs tomorrow.”

“Give it another day or two,” Nico said, handing her the crutch. “Don’t risk hurting yourself before then. I’ll help you move back home after the wedding.”

She thought about that while he helped her to her bedroom and turned down the quilted comforter. She’d made her bed this morning by hopping carefully on one foot.

“Do you need help with anything?” He held her gently by the waist, ignoring the dog who had woken from his nap under the kitchen table and now pattered into the room.

“No. I’m fine.” She’d hung the flannel nightgown on a hook on the back of the bathroom door, tucked her makeup and toiletries into two empty drawers by the sink. She didn’t intend to be a messy or demanding houseguest.

“Okay, then.” He hesitated, then leaned down and slanted his mouth over hers. Her arms went around his neck in the most natural way, her lips responded to the warmth of his. On a scale of one to ten, the kiss was a fifteen, with extra points for self-control, Grace decided, pulling back slowly.

“Good night,” he whispered, touching his lips to her cheek, her earlobe, her neck.

Shivers.

“Good night,” she managed to croak, though part of her wanted to grab him by the front of his shirt and haul that sexy mouth of his back to hers. She resisted, but just barely.

“See you in the morning,” Nico said, giving her a quick hug before practically running out of the room.

Grace thought about that kiss as she brushed her teeth, washed her face and slipped the nightgown over her head. She thought about it as she lay in Nico’s beautiful guest room bed, his dog snoring softly next to her. Her foot ached and her arms were sore from using the crutches, so she was content to be snuggled under the covers and nestled into mounds of down pillows.

He’d kissed her as if he meant it.

She was going to have to be very careful. He might intend to stay here in town and he might be perfectly content with running the lodge’s restaurant, but would that last? She’d thought Josh was going to stay forever, too, and look what happened there. She’d been left alone, after being certain they had a future together.

No matter what Nico said, Grace didn’t think Chef Vitelli was the domestic, small-town guy he thought he was.

CHAPTER EIGHT

NICO WAS PREPARED this time. Yesterday he’d been caught by surprise when his nephew and sister arrived for the dog, but this morning he expected visitors.

And visitors came, shortly after he’d checked in with his staff, taken care of a few minor staffing issues due to something called the Jingle Bell Run, arranged for one of the wedding guests to deliver breakfast to another wedding guest, discussed a frozen-blueberry shortage with Michael and okayed next week’s meat order.

“Is she still here?” His middle sister, Cathy, followed her nephew into the living room. She wore jeans, a thick vest and hiking boots. Her long brown hair was wrapped into a braid that hung over one shoulder and her cheeks were pink from the cold. She was his most domestic sister; she baked bread, sewed quilts, knit and made sure that her younger brother’s house was clean. Her two little ones, both girls, had their mother’s cheery disposition and their father’s red hair.

“She is. And she’s in the shower, so don’t go barging into the bedroom wanting to meet her.” He handed Al’s leash to Brian. “Here you go, kid. He’s all yours until tonight. I might be working late.”

“That’s okay, Uncle Nico.” Al wagged his happiness and grinned at the boy. “He can sleep over if you want.”

“I won’t be that late,” he said.

“Do you have a date?” Cathy arched her eyebrow at him.

“No, I have a bridal shower. A last-minute thing that was supposed to have been a rehearsal dinner,” he explained. “Grace and I are putting together a wedding for tomorrow night.”

“‘Grace and I,’” she repeated, looking amused. “Interesting.”

“Yes,” he said. “It is. So get out of here. Where are my beautiful nieces?” As if he had to ask. No doubt she’d dropped them off at Grandma’s house so she could accompany Brian to fetch Al. He half expected Beth to show up any minute, though his very pregnant sister might be too far along to feel like leaving her cozy home in town. He guessed she’d be waiting for an update from Cath via text, though.

“With Mom. You’re making breakfast,” Cathy said, pushing past him to peer at the kitchen counter. “Your famous French toast. And berries. You have fresh raspberries, for heaven’s sake!” She turned an accusing eye on him. “You only make that for us on our birthdays.”

“Out.” Nico pointed toward the door from which Brian and Al had just exited. “Now. Before Grace sees you and is embarrassed all over again. She’s not too pleased about staying here, but her condo in town is on the second floor. And she’s on crutches.”

“That’s what Marie said, not that we believe that for a second. She could have stayed at the lodge.”

“All booked up,” he said, pointing once again to the door. “It’s our busy season.”

Cathy didn’t budge. None of the women in his family were easily bossed.

“Mom said you might be bringing her tomorrow.”

“I certainly plan to.” He was going to do everything in his power to make sure that she came with him. She was alone, with no family, on Christmas. But she had him, and she had the Vitellis. If he wanted her to know him as someone other than Chef Hollywood, she would have to see where he came from.

“That’s serious.”

Nico didn’t reply. Instead, he took her elbow and guided her to the front door. “Think what you want, Cath. I have to get ready for work.”

“Good luck.” She gave him a quick hug before she left. “I hope she’s worthy of you.”

He couldn’t help laughing.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE tomorrow is Christmas Eve already.” Patsy handed Grace a cup of coffee and sat down in the chair across from the desk. “First things first, are we set for the Jingle Bell Run today?”

Grace looked at her list. “Yes. We donated three prizes—two spa packages and a Valentine’s Day weekend stay. Seven of the staff are participating and there will be some celebrating in the bar afterward, I suspect. The guests received invitations to join or watch.”

“I donated a couple of reindeer hats and one very ugly Mrs. Santa sweater. And I assume we’re ready for the wedding?”

Grace waved a hand toward the stacks of boxes. “We are ready. Nico loaned me one of his interns—”

“I heard she was thrilled to get out of deveining shrimp.”

“Yes. That’s what she told me. And she—Jilly—follows directions beautifully,” Grace said. “Noelle loved the little pinecone place-card holders, too.”

“You have the names of the guests? That was quick.”

“Our new bride gave me a list and the seating chart. That girl wasted no time getting this together, thank goodness. Ted’s been helping any way he can. They make a good couple.” She took a sip of coffee. “Thanks for this.”

“The chef’s special blend.” Patsy grinned. “He seems quite smitten.”

“That’s an old-fashioned word.”

“I’m an old-fashioned woman.” She leaned back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. Today Patsy wore a black pantsuit, white blouse and a cluster of vintage Christmas pins on her left lapel. “He’s crushing on you. Is that better?”

Grace had to laugh. “Ridiculous.”

“Not so ridiculous,” her friend pointed out. “You two have a lot in common. You both work in the hospitality business, you both like working with people and you’re both good at what you do. You live in the same town, you’re old enough to know what you want. The people you work with respect you both. Plus, he’s very good looking and he comes from a nice family.”

Grace thought about what Nico had told her last night. “He’s very close to them.”

“Another plus.”

“You sound like a matchmaking service.”

Patsy shrugged. “I’m just pointing out the obvious. Just don’t tell me you’re still in love with what’s-his-name. And don’t tell me your heart is still broken over that guy, because you’re smarter than that.”

“I’m not heartbroken,” Grace declared. “But I am a little more wary that I used to be. You can’t blame me for that.”

“Blame you for what?” Nico, wearing his official chef’s jacket and unofficial blue jeans, stepped into the office. He held a legal pad in his hand and smiled at both of them. “Should I come back later? I just wanted to go over the menu for tomorrow night.”

“Stay,” Patsy said, giving Grace a quick wink as she rose from her chair. “I have accounts to deal with. You’re staying for the shower?”

“Absolutely. Jilly has gone into town to get a gift certificate from the Adirondack Store for me. That’ll be my gift.” She eyed her foot. Still trapped in the boot, it peeked out from the hem of her swirly gold-and-green skirt. She’d chosen a deep emerald V-neck sweater and gold snowflake earrings to continue her holiday-themed week. “I’m glad my Christmas shopping is all done because I’m not in any shape to hit the stores now.”

“Thank God for that,” Nico said, moving aside for Patsy. “I’m a terrible shopper and I’d have to go with you to make sure you didn’t trip on any of the Christmas decorations. How long do we have to stay?”

“We?”

“I go where you go, babe. Unless you want to try to drive with that boot on your foot.”

She didn’t.

“For an hour or so into the party,” Grace said. “I need to make sure everything is set up the way her friends want it. There will be enough staff members there to take over for us after that. Do you need to stay late in the kitchen?”

He shook his head and plopped down in the chair across from her. “Michael can handle the dinner service. We expect it to be fairly light, so we can head home whenever you like.” He looked down at his notes. “So, let’s talk about our wedding, shall we?”

EVERY TIME HE saw Grace she was in motion. She’d organized the table arrangements, created a gift table and used some of those little lighted jars to decorate the buffet, all while propped up on crutches. Nico had kept the food simple, turning the formal rehearsal-dinner food for the Barrett guests into hearty appetizers. Maria had baked chocolate cupcakes and the interns had practiced their cake-decorating skills by frosting them. He’d had to demonstrate proper pastry bag technique, which meant the opportunity to show off a bit.

Just like on television.

It had all been worth it. The bride and groom had been completely surprised, having been tricked into thinking they were meeting friends for dinner. The mood in Wildwood was festive, with the groom’s favorite blues track playing from the speakers and the bride’s friends laughing and talking nonstop.

The interns, basking in the glow of compliments from their boss, continued to put out appetizers. He waved to Patsy, who gave him a thumbs-up and then made her way through the crowd to greet him.

“Nice job, Chef.”

“Thank you.” They both looked at the happy couple. Grace was explaining something to them, waving one hand toward the gift table as she spoke. One of the EMTs who had taken her to the clinic approached, put his arm around Grace’s waist and then whispered in her ear.

“What the—”

“He’s no competition,” Patsy said. “At least, I don’t think so. He’s been asking her out for a year and she hasn’t said yes yet.”

“There’s always a first time,” he grumbled. “The guy looks like Paul Bunyan. He could carry her off to the top of the mountain and we’d never see her again.” Seriously, the guy had legs like tree trunks and a chest the size of Montana.

“But she’s been spending all of her time with you,” Patsy pointed out. “And in your house, no less. I hope your intentions are honorable.”

“I’m taking her to meet my parents tomorrow. Does that count?”

“She said yes to that? Good.”

“She did.” He couldn’t help sounding proud. “I told her she was doing me a favor.”

“If you hurt her I will take all of your fancy, expensive knives down to the beach and use them to cut firewood.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nico said. “Duly noted.” He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he locked them up at night.

HE MISSED HIS chance to help Grace to bed. He had to deal with seventeen text messages and nine voice mails. The texts, from his sisters and his nephew, involved food, dog care and requests for wine recommendations. The voice mails were from his father, his mother, three friends vacationing in Mexico and his agent in LA.

His cell phone rang again once he arrived back home with Grace in tow. She’d insisted on using the ramp and managed just fine by holding on to the railing. It was clear she was feeling better, which meant he’d soon have to let her go.

But maybe not for long. She’d kissed him last night as if she’d meant it.

He had hope.

A lot of hope.

She blew him a kiss before she limped down the hall, Al following devotedly behind her, just as Nico wished he could.

CHAPTER NINE

“MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE. Nice dress.” He held out a cup of coffee as she hobbled into the kitchen.

“I try to match the wedding colors. Merry Christmas Eve to you, too.” She sat down and leaned her crutch against her chair before taking the cup. “Thank you.”

It was early, not quite eight o’clock, but Grace had set the alarm on her phone. She knew that the earlier she was at work today the better. She’d showered and dressed in a burgundy lace dress that she could wear all day. The shoes were an issue. She needed flats—well, a left one—for her one uninjured foot. The garnet Manolos she’d planned on wearing were not going to work.

“Wedding day,” he said, taking a big gulp of coffee. “Got to get the caffeine working.” He was dressed casually, in a black sweater and jeans. His hair curled, damp from the shower, and he looked sleepy. “I’m looking forward to it, but I am not a morning person.”

“What should I bring to your parents’ house? I can’t arrive empty-handed.” She’d thought about that the moment she woke up: hostess gift!

“Not food,” he said, looking at his watch. “I can make breakfast here or at work. It’s up to you. Maria’s doing muffins today, for the Christmas buffet tomorrow.”

“Muffins. Well, half a muffin,” she amended, thinking about the feast that awaited later at the Vitellisʼ house. “Nico, give me an idea for today. I woke up at five o’clock worrying about it.”

“Women are strange creatures.”

“Yes, we are. Strange creatures with manners.”

“Get a bottle of scotch. My father loves single malts.”

“Single malt,” she repeated seriously. “Got it. And your mother?”

“Candle freak.”

“Seriously?”

“Like I could make that up?”

“Any special scent?”

“For what?”

“The candles.”

He frowned, stared absently into the distance. “Not that I know of.” He reached for his cell phone and punched out a text. “Cath will know.”

Sure enough, two minutes later he got an answer. Nico showed Grace the screen: Any. Bigger better.

So Grace would buy single-malt scotch and a humongous candle before one oʼclock, along with preparing the rooms for the wedding and getting the staff set up with their assigned chores.

Piece of cake, even on one foot.

“Drink up,” she said. “We have to get going. Do you mind stopping at my place to pick up some shoes? And drop off my things?” She thought about that for a second. Nico rummaging through her closet. It was clean and organized to the max, which would amuse him no end.

“No problem.” He fiddled with his phone. “There’s a storm coming. We’re going to get some snow.”

“A lot of snow?” She’d have to factor in more time for guests to arrive if that was the case. Snow slowed things down, wreaked havoc on tight schedules.

“‘A significant amount,’ according to Accuweather.”

She’d need to wear boots. Grace hobbled back to her room, grabbed her bag, iPad and phone, put her suede boot on her left foot and wrapped the soft azure scarf from her Secret Santa around her neck. She’d packed everything, but Nico would have to put her clothes and suitcase into the car. She looked around the room to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. She wondered if Al would miss her.

She wondered if Nico would.

“I’ll take those now,” Nico said, stepping into the room. “Unless I can talk you into staying longer.”

“I have tomorrow and the next day off,” she said. “I’ll stay home and rest. And then I think I’ll be as good as new.”

“All right. But Al is going to be devastated when he has to sleep on the floor tonight.”

He took her things and left, the dog following him down the hall and outside. They returned quickly, Al shaking a dusting of snow off his fur and moving immediately to his bed by the fireplace.

“He’ll sleep until Brian comes to take him to my parents’,” Nico said, chuckling. He helped Grace with her coat. “He knows it’s going to snow and he really hates this kind of weather. Why are you smiling?”

“I love weddings. I love big days like this when all of the planning and work pays off and everything is beautiful. And then something goes wrong but it doesn’t matter because I can fix it.” She grinned at him. “I live to organize.”

“Wow.” He took a step back. “The adrenaline’s pumping already?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know exactly what I’m talking about,” she said. “You love parties. Everyone knows that. You sing while you cook.”

Nico launched into a rendition of “Winter Wonderland” and ushered Grace out the door and into the cold.

SHE WAS ARMED with gifts. She’d called the gift-delivery company she worked with and had them send over a bottle of Highland Park scotch, a selection of fat candles from the Adirondack Company and a huge box of fudge for the children. She’d gathered gift certificates and lotions from the lodge’s spa for Nico’s sisters, then added an extra one for his mother. The brothers-in-law were a mystery until Lyndsie, her gift coordinator, suggested gift certificates to the new microbrewery.

It was all just too easy.

“We’re set?” Nico poked his head into her office. “You can still get away?”

“I can,” she pronounced, grabbing her crutch. “I have so many people who want to help that everything was set up by ten. The florist came early because of the storm. Noelle will check into her suite at three o’clock. She’ll get dressed in the room and then she and Ted will stay there tonight. I need to be back here by five or five thirty. It’s a small wedding, but everything needs to be perfect. How’s the food coming along?”

“We’re all set. My team knows what they’re doing.” He held out her coat. “Even the interns are getting smarter. They’re overseeing the buffet in the dining room. How hard can it be to make sure everything is hot and plentiful and neatly displayed?”

“Christmas Eve,” she mused. “It feels like it.”

“That’s because they’re playing traditional carols in the lobby.”

“Patsy stole my iPod last night.”

“I heard it’s in a safe place until Monday.”

“That’s what the note said.” There would be no more bluesy holiday music in the lobby this season.

“Bundle up,” Nico said, handing her the blue scarf. “It’s snowing.”

She didn’t ask if he thought they’d have trouble getting back to the lodge later. He had a vehicle equipped for traveling in snow, plus the village of Lake Placid knew how to keep roads clear.

“I hope you’re hungry. And feeling domestic. My family will probably put you to work stirring or mincing.” His eyebrows rose at the shopping bags she handed him, but he didn’t comment.

“I can stir,” she assured him. “I can mince,” she fibbed. She hoped she could avoid cutting her fingers or dropping something on the floor. “Don’t they make you do that, being the fancy chef and all?”

“You forget I come from a long line of chefs, fancy and otherwise.”

Nico drove along the lake, passing his house and then continuing along the road for another half a mile. “When I was growing up we lived in town, near the restaurant, but my folks bought this place about fifteen years ago. They decided they wanted to be closer to the water.”

“This place” turned out to be a low-slung modern ranch-style house at the end of a long driveway. Nestled into the hillside, it had breathtaking views of the water and a massive deck.

“They downsized,” Nico explained. “Mom wanted a newer home on one floor, so they bought this and completely redid it.” He parked close to the door, in front of a detached three-car garage. “Stay put and I’ll help you in.”

The snow was coming down heavier now and it coated the circular driveway. Someone had shoveled a path to the house and cleared the three stone steps that fronted a large entry door. Nico helped her from the car. Leaning on him seemed natural now.

She had grown used to touching him, to leaning on him. They’d become friends, she realized. Friends who kissed.

The door opened before they reached the steps, revealing a short, handsome man with a head of curly gray hair. Dressed in a down vest, khaki pants and thick snow boots, he beamed at them and hurried down the steps to help.

Nico’s father, obviously.

“Hello, hello, Merry Christmas. You must be Nico’s friend. How is that ankle doing? Oh, watch out now. It’s slick. One of the boys shoveled a while ago, but the snow is coming down hard, isn’t it?”

“It is,” she agreed. She liked the man immediately and some of her nervousness dissipated. She gripped her crutch and prayed she wouldn’t fall over and embarrass herself in front of him.

“Dad, I’d like you to meet Grace,” Nico said once they were inside and stomping the snow off their feet on the rubber mat inside the door. “Grace Clarke, from Mirror Lake Lodge.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard all about you, Gracie. The wedding planner! I think I’ve seen you at the lodge, though we’ve never officially met. I’m so glad you came. Here, let me help you.”

Nico touched Grace’s shoulder. “I’ll go back for the bags. You’ve guessed that this happy man is my father.”

“It’s nice to meet—”

He enveloped her in a big hug. “We’re glad you’re here at last. Now, let’s get that coat off and let you sit down. Oh, you have one of Cathy’s scarves! You should always wear blue.”

Cathy’s scarf? Did he mean Nico’s sister had made it? She didn’t have a chance to ask.

“I’ll be right back,” Nico said, fleeing the foyer as his mother rounded the corner.

Mrs. Vitelli was tall and lean, much like her son, and at least eight inches taller than her husband. She wore black pencil-thin slacks and a gold turtleneck sweater. Her hair was a rich dark brown highlighted with auburn streaks. It was cut in a classic bob that framed a beautiful face with high cheekbones and lovely gray eyes. Grace guessed she was in her early sixties. She looked nervous, but her smile was genuine.

“You must be Grace. I’m Terry, Nico’s mother,” she said, holding out her hand. Noticing that Grace was trying to get her coat off while negotiating the crutch, she stopped. “What can I do?”

“We’ve got it, honey,” her husband assured her. “Nico went out to unload the car.”

“My boot,” Grace stammered. “I don’t want to track snow—”

“Never mind that,” Terry Vitelli said. “Come straight through and sit down. It’s only snow.”

Grace bit her tongue before she could say, “Yes, ma’am.”

The foyer opened up into a large room that faced the lake. Floor-to-ceiling windows and sliding glass doors revealed the snowstorm whirling beyond them, while inside, a large chestnut sofa faced a gas fireplace whose flickering flames warmed the room. A huge Christmas tree sat in one corner, presents spilling out from underneath into the room. No one else was there.

“We’re early,” Grace said, letting Nico’s mother lead her to a leather recliner placed strategically across from a large television. “I hope that’s okay. I have a wedding tonight—”

“Everyone’s in the kitchen,” Mr. Vitelli announced. “Terry won’t let them out until we meet you.”

Nico’s mother flushed. “I didn’t want you to be overwhelmed when you first walked in. We’re a big family. Besides, they’re baking cookies and I don’t want them to burn.”

Mr. Vitelli winked. “We’re a noisy bunch. Couldn’t have Nico’s girl running back to the car, you know.”

“I’m not—” She started to explain that she wasn’t Nico’s girlfriend, but stopped. Maybe, just for this afternoon, she’d pretend to be exactly that. “I’m not easily scared,” she said, bending over to remove her suede boot. She’d leave the support boot on, with one of Nico’s wool hiking socks covering her toes.

“Of course you’re not,” Terry said. “I don’t know how my husband comes up with these things.”

“Nona!” A little girl tiptoed into the room. She eyed Grace before turning to her grandmother. “Mommy said I can have two cookies.”

“Grace, this is Greta, my middle daughter’s older child. Greta, say hello to Grace.”

“Hi.” She was tiny and round, with red curls and fair skin.

“Hi, Greta.”

Nico joined them, scooping the little girl into his arms and tipping her upside down, releasing delighted squeals. Another little one ran into the room. She looked about two, with the same red curls and heart-shaped face.

“Me, too!” She held up her arms to her uncle. “Me, too!”

He gave the other little girl a turn hanging by his arm and she giggled wildly.

“This is the youngest. Delia. Their father is Irish.” He winked at Grace. “Can you tell?”

A very pregnant young woman waddled into the living room. “She’s only the youngest for two more weeks, Nico.” She turned to Grace. “Hi. I’m Beth. The pregnant sister.”

Terry laughed. “I think Grace figured that out for herself.”

“Hi. I’m Grace Clarke. I work with your—”

“Oh, I’ve heard,” she said, her eyes twinkling with good humor. She resembled her father, petite and with black curls tumbling down to her shoulders. She looked as if she could give birth any moment, especially in the giant red tent dress and black tights she was wearing. “You’re Nico’s friend from the lodge. We couldn’t wait to meet you. You met Marie a few days ago, but Nico wouldn’t let Cath bother you yesterday. Our brother has a woman living with him! It’s all we’ve been talking about.”

“I stayed in the guest room for a few nights,” Grace said, laughing. “Your brother rescued me from having to go up and down the stairs to my condo.”

Nico groaned. “Ignore her, Grace. She’s been hallucinating since her fifth month. Where is everybody? I thought I’d have to rescue Grace from the hordes.”

“Your mother locked everyone in the kitchen.”

“Johnny, really.” Terry shot him an indulgent look. “You tease too much. Grace will think you’re serious.”

Grace thought he was wonderful. She watched his daughter wrap her arm around his waist and give him a little side hug. Cute.

“I raised Nico with good manners,” Terry said, patting Grace’s arm. “I’m sure he’s taken good care of you and behaved like a perfect gentleman. How did you hurt yourself?”

“I slipped on a set of jingle bells in the kitchen.”

“My kitchen,” Nico said. “At the lodge. They fell off a cookie tray. And I’ve been stuck with Grace ever since.”

“He caught me before I hit the floor,” Grace assured his mother. “And he went with me to the clinic, then took me home because I couldn’t do the stairs and he had a ramp.”

Beth’s eyebrows rose and she and her father exchanged amused looks.

“Well,” Johnny Vitelli said. “Thank goodness for Al’s ramp.”

“Al’s ramp?”

Beth answered. “Al can’t do steps, either, so Nico had it built when he bought the house.”

“He did?” Grace gave him a questioning look, which he ignored.

His mother shook her head. “I’m still confused about the jingle bells.”

“Grace was coming into the kitchen to boss me around,” he confided to another sister who’d recently entered the room. Tall, built like Nico and his mother, she had big blue eyes and wore her brown hair in a long braid that was draped over her shoulder. Faded jeans and a stained long-sleeved T-shirt added to the image of a woman who preferred comfort to fashion. Her smile was friendly when she turned to Grace.

“Hi,” she said, sticking out her hand to shake Grace’s. “I’m Cathy, mother of the two female hellions.” She looked at her mother. “I didn’t tell them they could eat cookies. They lied to you.”

Terry chuckled. “Fibbed,” she corrected. “Those sweet little girls would never lie.”

Cathy rolled her eyes at Grace. “Yeah, right. Did you like the scarf? Nico picked out the yarn.”

“He did?”

“Yep. Secret Santa, right?”

Grace looked at Nico, who avoided her gaze. “What about the birdseed?”

“Birdseed?” Cathy looked at her brother.

“Secret Santa,” he muttered, looking guilty. “Isn’t that the point?”

Grace wanted to hug him because he looked so uncharacteristically embarrassed. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and kiss him until they were both breathless because he’d given her a scarf that matched her eyes and kept it a secret. He’d built a ramp for his elderly, lame dog and kept that information to himself, too.

She was in love with him. Despite her best intentions she’d fallen for Nico Vitelli, who dated models and cooked for movie stars. And had just introduced her to his family as his friend from work.

This wasn’t good, she realized. Not good at all.

“Where are the guys?” Nico attempted to change the subject as he dangled a little girl from each arm. “Hiding from their snoopy wives again?”

“Jon and Mark are in the basement doing a project for Grandpa.” Cathy frowned at him. “Birdseed? What’s that about?”

“Never mind.” He turned to Grace. “I put your bags in the kitchen.”

“Thanks.” Nico certainly didn’t want to talk about the scarf.

“Where’s Marie and her gang?” Nico released the girls, whispering something in their ears that sent them running out of the room. Cathy chased after them.

“Running late.” Everyone laughed at that, leaving Grace to assume that Marie was usually running behind schedule. Terry shook a finger at her youngest daughter. “You wait until you have three children to get out of the house on Christmas Eve. It’s not so easy.”

Beth patted her stomach. “I feel like I have three of them in here right now. Besides, little Elvis in here might be an only child.”

“Elvis?”

“His due date is January eighth. Same day Elvis was born.” Beth grinned. “Mom hates it when I call him Elvis.”

“I keep wondering if you’re serious,” Terry sputtered.

Nico held out a hand to Grace. “Come on, Grace. I’ll take you into the kitchen where the real action is.” He turned to his mother. “We haven’t had lunch. Or breakfast.”

Terry’s face lit up. “Good. I’ll fix you something nice. Grace, do you like eggplant parmigiana? Or would you rather have lasagna? With a nice salad and some lovely Tuscan wine we ordered last month and fell in love with.”

“That sounds lovely, but don’t go to any—”

“Save your breath,” Nico said, holding her tightly. “She will feed you no matter what you say, and it will make her happy. After all, we’re here to eat, aren’t we?”

“You are, you are,” Johnny Vitelli said. “We are all here together and what could be better than that?”

Nothing, Grace decided two hours later. Nothing could be better than spending the afternoon with the large and noisy Vitelli family. Maria, her husband, Danny, and their three children arrived while Grace was seated at the large farm table, sipping her first glass of wine and sampling rosemary focaccia with a peppery olive oil. They brought Al with them, since he’d been at their house again that morning. The dog greeted her like a long-lost friend and she sneaked him a piece of her bread. Brian gave Grace a shy smile, then let his grandmother hug and kiss him. His older sister, Anna, got the same treatment from both grandparents before hurrying over to say hello to Grace. She was eleven, she confided while eating a thick slice of bread, and the oldest grandchild.

“I remember you,” Anna said. “You helped me when I was sad, remember?”

It took Grace a moment to realize what the girl meant. Last fall at the lodge Anna had been crying. Her parents were late and she was worried because her little sister had had to go to the hospital with a fever.

“The Girl Scout dinner,” she said. She remembered dispensing hugs and tissues before returning the child to one of the Scout leaders, who’d informed her that Anna’s parents were on their way. The little sister had an ear infection and would be fine.

Another child, a fragile little angel with the sweetest expression Grace had ever seen, pranced into the kitchen and declared she was “dying for risotto.”

“That’s Emily,” Anna explained. “She wants to be an actress.”

“I think she’s a natural.”

They sat around the huge dining table and ate more food than Grace would have ever thought possible. Johnny Vitelli continued to laugh and hug and beam at everyone. Terry organized the cooking and the presentation of the food. The brothers-in-law greeted Grace with great enthusiasm and teased Nico for being the last single Vitelli.

“Someday,” Ben O’Rourke declared, “you, too, will be changing diapers and coaching soccer.”

“Hopefully not at the same time,” said Jon Nally, little Delia sprawled asleep in his arms, said.

“Though it can be done.” Ben winked at Grace.

She blushed. Nico frowned and didn’t look at all amused. He left her side shortly after that and went over to the stove to oversee the pasta.

Her hostess gifts had been a big hit. Terry gave her a warm hug along with her thanks for the spa time and the candles. Johnny immediately opened his scotch and took a “wee sip,” pronouncing it the best he’d ever tasted. Nico’s sisters were fun and welcoming, the children excited and friendly. Al hid under the table at her feet and Terry urged her to try every dish that was placed on the table. It was chaos and noise and laughter and love.

But the more comfortable she felt, the more she enjoyed his family, the more distant Nico grew. She’d overstepped, she realized. She’d read more into this week than was there.

He felt sorry for the lonely woman he worked with. He was kind and caring—he’d built a ramp for his dog, for heaven’s sake—and that was it.

Here at the Vitellis’ she felt as if she’d come home.

And that was the very worst thing that could have happened this Christmas.

CHAPTER TEN

“NICO.” HIS MOTHER was waiting for him when he came inside after cleaning the snow from the car. It was almost five o’clock—time to brave the storm and head down the road to the lodge—though Grace was busy learning how to make risotto with Cathy while Anna read Christmas poems to her.

He hated to leave, but there would be other holidays. Other Christmas Eve parties.

“Mom?” He stomped the snow

She gave him a quick hug. “You’re trying to hide it, but your heart is in your eyes.”

Nico didn’t know what to say. He’d hoped no one would notice. There had already been too many arch looks, too much teasing and too many assumptions. He was afraid Grace would feel trapped.

“She seems lovely,” his mother added.

“She is.”

“Yes. We’re happy you brought her today. When you were in California we worried—well, never mind about that.” His mother patted him on the arm. “Is this serious? Will we see her again?”

“You will, I hope.” He kept his voice low. “I’ve been half in love with her since the first time I saw her.”

Terry shook her head. “You are such a romantic, Nico. So it was love at first sight.”

“Like you and Dad.”

“We were very young,” she said, leading him toward the sound of people laughing and talking over each other in the kitchen. “And very lucky to find each other.”

“Then wish me the same luck,” he said, throwing an arm over her shoulder.

“Always,” his mother said. “And especially with that lovely young woman. I hope we didn’t frighten her off.”

“Me, too,” Nico replied, worried that he’d rushed Grace into an intimacy she wasn’t prepared for. He’d sped up the dating process this afternoon. Heck, he wasn’t even sure if he and Grace were officially “dating,” but in his mind they’d been a couple since she’d fallen into his arms four days ago. Four days. She’d lived at his house, slept with his dog, eaten meals in his kitchen and worked with him to plan a wedding and a shower. They’d also collaborated on events almost daily for months. He’d like to think that counted.

But what if he was wrong?

“IT’S PERFECT,” GRACE assured the bride as she posed in her wedding gown. “You’re perfect. Everything is going to go beautifully, but you absolutely must stop crying.” She handed Noelle another tissue. “Blot, don’t rub.”

“The storm—”

“Hasn’t changed one thing about your wedding.”

“Just the maid of honor. My sister—”

“Is stuck because of the storm, I know,” Grace said soothingly. “But it’s all going to work out.”

“And Ted—”

“Is with Josh, in the Wildwood Room. And they both look handsome and nervous.” Grace had checked the room ten minutes ago. And twenty minutes ago. And forty minutes ago. Lanterns were in place, flowers were where they were supposed to be and the guests were pouring in.

The fire in the fireplace looked picture-perfect.

The music was ready.

“Time to go,” she said, smiling at the recently substituted maid of honor. “She’s all yours.”

The next hour and a half was a blur, leaving Grace little time to run and hide, no spare moments to wonder what on earth she had been thinking, allowing herself to fall in love with Nico Vitelli. It wasn’t until dinner was served and the happy bride and groom were being toasted by the best man that Grace had a chance to retreat to her office and sit down in the dark.

Nico had been busy in the kitchen and hadn’t spoken to her since they returned to the lodge. They asked and answered each other’s event-related questions through Brian, the good-natured waiter who hoped to be promoted next year.

The truth was that Nico had been a good friend and a helpful coworker. He’d kissed her a few times, but she assumed that was his nature. Kissing him and being kissed by him felt natural at the time, but now it just seemed idiotic.

He’d taken care of her when she’d hurt herself in his kitchen. He’d carried her and fed her and even returned her things to her condo. He’d seen her closet and found her red flats with the rhinestone toes. He’d brought her home to his family on Christmas Eve.

Maybe he felt sorry for her because she had no family around.

He’d been quiet on the short ride back to the lodge. He hadn’t teased her about how much risotto she ate or asked her if she’d had a good time. He’d seemed thoughtful and a little tired. He probably wasn’t thrilled to work on Christmas Eve, either, though that was part of the job.

What if he felt pity for the lonely event planner? What if he didn’t like that his family thought he was serious about her? What if he was embarrassed by it? That thought made her stomach knot up. She took a deep breath.

Well, Christmas and its hoopla were almost over. She would return home, go to bed early, open her gifts in the morning and rest her foot. The doctor had asked her to return on Monday, after the holiday, so he could check it. But he said she’d know when she could put her weight on it again. He’d also told her to avoid high heels for the rest of the winter.

She’d have to avoid more than just dressy shoes. She’d need to hide her feelings and pretend to be friends with a man who made her heart ache.

But that wasn’t going to be simple. Nico had offered to drive her home as soon as they were no longer needed at the wedding. Once the food was served, the wedding cake was ready to be cut, the hot-chocolate bar was in place and the coffee and tea were ready, he and Grace could leave Michael and Jilly to oversee the cleanup.

Grace had other plans. She’d leave him a note.

Wish him a merry Christmas.

Wrap the lovely blue scarf around her neck and limp away.

HE’D SCREWED UP. He didn’t have to wonder any longer because now he knew. Too soon, Vitelli. You rushed it. And Grace wasn’t a woman to be rushed. He should have known better, but he’d thought fate had stepped in with that foolish set of jingle bells to toss Grace right into his arms.

Now what? He checked with the staff to find out who drove her home, but no one knew what he was talking about. He caught up to Jilly as she was replacing peppermint sticks in the hot-chocolate bar.

“Grace isn’t in her office,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Is she around here somewhere?”

Jilly shook her head. “She left. Her foot was really bothering her.”

“She was in pain?”

“One of the EMT guys had to leave early and Grace caught a ride with him.”

“One of the EMTs?”

“Friend of the groom. I guess some of them were in the military together. But she told me to call her if there were any problems.” She reached into her pants pocket. “And she asked me to give you this.”

“Thanks, Jilly.” So much for that mystery. He opened the folded paper and read what he already knew. Grace was holed up in her own little home. Alone at Christmas, which obviously was how she wanted it.

Nico went home to his dog.

GRACE CURLED UP in her blue-and-white bedroom, listened to voice messages from her father—“great weather, wish you were here”—her aunt—“great weather, the baby is gorgeous, wish you were here with us”—and Patsy, who’d attended the wedding ceremony but went home to her family afterward.

“Tell me everything,” her friend said. “Unless it’s after eleven. Then wait until tomorrow.”

Did Patsy want to talk about her afternoon with the Vitellis or the success of the wedding reception? She returned none of the calls.

There was nothing from Nico, not that she expected to hear from him. He wouldn’t be pleased that she’d left without telling him. He took his responsibilities seriously. She’d done him a favor, she told herself, reaching for a tissue. He wouldn’t have to take care of her anymore.

They would be friends.

Grace wept.

“IF YOU WEREN’T interested you should have told me. You didn’t have to run off with one of the bodybuilders.”

It was seven-thirty Christmas morning and a rumpled, pale Nico Vitelli stood at her door. “Nico, what are you—”

“Breakfast.” He handed her a plastic grocery bag. “I grabbed some things to make pancakes.”

“Pancakes?” She stepped back and let him enter her small living room. She’d been up for two hours and had opened her three Christmas presents while drinking three mugs of coffee. At least she wasn’t wearing a flannel nightgown, not that pink yoga pants and a white sweatshirt with the Mirror Lake Lodge logo was much better. She leaned on the crutch and waited for him to explain.

“Yeah. I need to apologize. And Vitellis apologize with food.”

“I didn’t run off with a bodybuilder.” She took the bag. “I was saving you a snowy drive to town.”

“Liar.” He followed her into her tiny kitchen and leaned against the counter as if he owned the place. “You were running away from me. Why? Who hurt you?”

“That’s not—”

“Really, Grace. Who hurt you and how long ago? I heard you were dating someone for quite a while, but he moved away. Was it an ugly breakup?”

“His name was Josh. He got a job offer in Houston and he left me.” She poured a cup of coffee and handed it to him.

“Thank God for Houston’s booming economy,” Nico muttered.

“The relationship was getting serious,” she continued, her voice soft. “Or so I thought. I trusted him and he walked away.”

“You were in love with him.”

“It felt like love at the time.” Grace saw the hurt flash in Nico’s eyes and wished she hadn’t been quite so honest.

“He obviously wasn’t the right man for you.”

“No. I know that now. But at the time? I was heartbroken. He wasn’t ready to get married, he said. He wasn’t ready to ‘take the next step.’ That was news to me, because he’d hinted at a future together and I’d believed him.” She tried for a smile. “I seem to attract men with commitment issues.”

“No,” Nico said. “Those men just weren’t right for you. If that guy, the one who moved to Houston, had been the right guy you’d be eating tacos and drinking tequila right now.”

“Nico—”

“Just so you know, I have zero commitment issues,” he informed her. “I’m as loyal as Al.”

Grace couldn’t help smiling at that statement.

Nico continued. “I started to fall in love with you when I interviewed for the job here. The evening I asked you for a drink.”

“But—”

“Not because you were gorgeous. And wearing that red dress. Or because your hair was coming undone in a very sexy way. I fell for you when I saw you comforting a little girl. You really cared about her feelings and you took the time to make her feel better. I loved that. It made me want to know you.”

“I was talking to Anna.”

“Yes. I didn’t know who it was then—Marie told me later what had happened. If I’d only known it was her, I could have stepped in and been the big-hero uncle.” He smiled ruefully. “I didn’t see her face, but I saw yours.”

“She was crying into a corner when I found her. It took a few minutes to get her to tell me what was wrong.”

“I waited around until you came back, to ask you out. I was desperate to impress you, to convince you to talk to me.”

“You were flirting.” And she’d thought he was a well-practiced charmer and would have none of it. “I was a tongue-tied mess,” he confessed. “I’ve been trying to get your attention ever since.”

“You have not.”

“I have,” he insisted. “Ask Patsy. She arranged the Secret Santa gift. I bought the birdseed as a cover.”

“It worked. I was totally fooled. She set it up so I got your name, you know.”

“I suspected from the way you blushed.”

“I did not.”

“You did.” He slipped his arms around her waist. “Could we start over? I rushed things, I know. I scared you.”

“Only because I thought you seemed so...distant yesterday. I thought you were embarrassed that your family thought we were serious. The guys were teasing you about changing diapers and having kids.”

“I was afraid they’d know how very serious I am,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to scare you off.”

He kissed her then, and it was definitely not the kiss of a man who was just looking for a friend.

“Can we start over?”

Grace looped her arms around his neck, letting her crutch drop to the floor. “What did you have in mind?”

“We could go out on a date. To the movies. Eat popcorn. Hold hands.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll have Sunday dinners with the family once in a while. Watch the Super Bowl. Emily has a dance recital coming up. We could go and cheer.” His hands tightened around her.

“We could.”

“Then on Valentine’s Day I come up with some clever way to surprise you with a great big diamond ring. I get down on one knee and beg you to marry me.”

Grace blinked back tears as she looked up at him. He was serious. And he was nervous. “And when I say yes?”

He broke into a smile. “We plan a Christmas wedding, which I know from experience you are very good at.” Nico pulled back from her, reached into his pocket and pulled out a little bundle of jingle bells. “I kept them for luck. What do you say?”

“They’ll be perfect in the bridal bouquet,” she managed to say.

“And we’ll live happily ever after?”

“Of course we will.” She sniffed. “You, me and Al.”

“And maybe a couple of little Vitellis.” His lips skimmed her mouth.

“The more the merrier,” Grace whispered before she kissed him.

Her Holiday Prince Charming

Christine Flynn

Can a single mom and a Scroogelike self-made millionaire find their fairy tale for Christmas? Christine Flynn delivers a tale of holiday magic in the latest installment of The Hunt For Cinderella!

All Rory Linfield wants is to give her little boy a perfect Christmas. A new job and new home would be nice, too! So when a mysterious benefactor asks her to manage a shop in a picturesque seashore town, she eagerly accepts. The only catch? Her supergruff—and supersexy!—new boss.

The last thing bachelor Erik Sullivan needs to deal with is an inexperienced “businesswoman.” Especially one whose gentle manner and vulnerable allure awaken feelings he’d rather let lie. No, it would be easier to keep his distance, because Rory and her son remind him all too much of things he once wanted, but couldn’t have. But then, this holiday season seems to be full of surprises…perhaps even a family under his tree?

For the lovely ladies

who have made the “Hunt” happen,

and everyone who believes in the fairy tale.

Prologue

“What’s on your Christmas list this year? No matter how big or how small, you’re sure to find what you’re looking for at Seattle’s one-stop answer to all your holiday—”

With a quick flick of the dial, Rory silenced the cheerful voice suddenly booming from her car radio. In an attempt to drown out her worries while she waited to pick up her son from kindergarten, she’d turned the music to a decibel she’d never have considered had her five-year-old been in the vehicle.

The ad had just brought to mind the one thing she’d been desperately trying not to think about.

She’d hoped to make the holiday special for her little boy this year. Not just special, but after last year’s unquestionably awful Christmas, something wonderful. Magical.

As of three days ago, however, she was no longer sure how she would keep a roof over their heads, much less put a tree under it. Due to downsizing, her telecommuting services as a legal transcriptionist for Hayes, Bleaker & Stein were no longer required. She’d needed that job to pay for little things like food and gas and to qualify for a mortgage.

Without a job, she had no hope of buying the little Cape Cod she’d thought so perfect for her and little Tyler. She had no hope of buying or renting any house at all. Since the sale of the beautiful home she’d shared with her husband closed next week, that left her four days to find an apartment and a job that would help her pay for it.

A quick tap ticked on her driver’s side window.

Through the foggy glass, a striking blonde wearing studious-looking horn-rimmed glasses and winter-white fur smiled at her. The woman didn’t look at all familiar to Rory. Thinking she must be the mom of an older student, since she knew all the moms in the kindergarten class, she lowered her window and smiled back.

Chill air rushed into the car as the woman bent at the waist to make eye contact. “You’re Aurora Jo Linfield?”

Rory hesitated. The only time she ever used her full name was on legal documents. And she rarely used Aurora at all. “I am.”

“I’m Felicity Granger.” Hiking her designer bag higher on her shoulder, she stuck her hand through the open window. The cold mist glittered around her, clung, jewel-like, to her pale, upswept hair. “But please, call me Phil. I’m an associate of Cornelia Hunt. You’ve heard of Cornelia, haven’t you?”

Rory shook the woman’s hand, watched her retract it. “I’ve heard of her,” she admitted, wondering what this woman—or the other—could possibly want with her. Nearly everyone in Seattle had heard of Mrs. Hunt, the former Cornelia Fairchild. She’d been the childhood sweetheart of computer genius Harry Hunt, the billionaire founder of software giant HuntCom. Rory recalled hearing of their marriage last summer, even though she’d been struggling within her fractured little world at the time. Media interest in their six-decade relationship had been huge.

“May I help you with something?”

“Oh, I’m here to help you,” the woman insisted. “Mr. Hunt heard of your situation—”

Harry Hunt had heard of her? “My situation?”

“About your job loss. And how that affects your ability to purchase another home.”

“How does he know that?”

“Through your real estate agent. Mr. Hunt knows the owner of the agency she works for,” she explained. “Harry bought a building through him last month for his wife so she’d have a headquarters for her new venture. When he learned why you couldn’t move forward with the purchase of the house you’d found, he remembered Mrs. Hunt’s project and thought you’d be a perfect referral. So we checked you out.” Her smile brightened. “And you are.

“Anyway,” she continued, anxious to get to her point. “Cornelia knows of a property for sale that you might want to purchase. She’s aware of your current unemployment,” she hurried to assure her, “but she said you’re not to worry about that little detail right now. Just look at the place. If you’re interested, suitable arrangements can be made for you and for the seller.

“It’s not exactly what you told your agent you want,” she cautioned, reaching into a pocket of her coat. “But it could be perfect for you and your little boy. You really do need to keep an open mind when you see it, though,” she warned. “Don’t judge it as is. Look for the possibilities.

“You’ll be met at the address on the back.” She held out a white, pearlescent business card. “The owner’s representative will be there at ten tomorrow morning. A man by the name of Erik Sullivan. He’s quite knowledgeable about the property, so feel free to ask him anything that will help you decide whether you want the place or not. You should keep an open mind about him, too.

“I have to run now. Double-parked,” she said, explaining her rush but not the warning. “If you like what you see, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

Rory took the pretty little card. Neatly hand-printed on the back was an address outside Port Orchard, a short ferry ride across the sound from Seattle.

With questions piling up like leaves in the fall, she glanced back up.

The woman was gone.

Seeing no sign of her in the Pacific Northwest mist that was closer to fog than rain, she looked back to the shimmery little card.

The past fourteen months had left her without faith in much of anything anymore. The sudden, devastating loss of her husband to an uninsured drunk driver who’d run a red light. The whispered and crushing comments about their marriage that she’d overheard at his funeral. The exodus from her life of people she’d once thought of as family and friends. Each event had been shattering in its own right. Together, they’d made her afraid to trust much of anything. Or anyone.

And that had been before she’d lost the job Harvey Bleaker had said was hers for as long as she needed it.

The lovely woman with the bookish glasses had appeared out of nowhere. As if by magic, she’d disappeared into the mist the same way, like some sort of a fairy godmother dressed in faux fur and carrying Coach.

Dead certain her sleepless nights had just caught up with her, Rory dropped the card into the open compartment on the console. Whatever had just happened had to be either too good to be true or came with a spiderweb of strings attached to it.

Probably, undoubtedly, both.

Still, she, Tyler and the for-rent section of the newspaper were going apartment hunting in the morning. Having just picked up a check for the small down payment she’d put on the house she hadn’t been able to buy, less fees, she had enough for three or four months’ rent and expenses. In the meantime, feeling a desperate need for either magic or a miracle, she figured she had nothing to lose by checking out the address on that card.

She just hoped that this Erik Sullivan would be as accepting of her circumstances as Mrs. Cornelia Hunt seemed to be.

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