Mia Ross - Jingle Bell Romance

“I can’t say the same.” Nick’s face twisted into something between a smirk and a scowl. “I guess they’re easier to take when they’re not aimed at you.”

Attempting to redirect the conversation, she said, “It’s a lovely church, with all that leaded glass and hand-carved woodwork. I’ve always been curious about who built it.”

His nasty expression faded, and he met her eyes calmly. “You’ve been here long enough to know the Landrys built it in 1817, a year after they got here.”

“On Christmas Day,” she added. “Which is how the town got its name.”

“You’re just trying to distract me with this little history lesson.”

For some reason, he was trying to start a fight with her. Rather than join in, she laughed. “Is it working?”

That got her a slow easy smile, completely at odds with the intensity she’d assumed was part of his personality. A pleasant surprise, it brightened his gloomy expression. “Let’s just say I could think of worse ways to kill a few hours before my flight than spending it with such a beautiful woman.”

His rapidly shifting moods set off alarm bells in her head, making her wonder what else he was hiding beneath that cool, detached exterior. Shaking off the thought, she cautioned herself that he was too arrogant to interest her.

She’d spent most of her twenty-eight years traveling the world, and she’d run across more than her share of alpha males along the way. The last one—a dashing Italian banker—all but destroyed her life before vanishing into thin air. Thanks to him, she’d given up on men a long time ago. Especially men like Nick, who clearly had no intention of sticking around.

* * *

Although he’d grown up here, Nick felt more claustrophobic than ever.

Perched on the rocky Atlantic coast, the village had been built around a town square with a white gazebo currently draped with fresh pine boughs. Up and down Main Street, shops and businesses were decorated with multi-colored garlands and twinkling lights. The snow drifting from the sky added to the effect, bringing to mind one of those Currier and Ives cards people loved to send him this time of year.

Holiday shopping wouldn’t be exactly like it was in other places, with crazed customers and twenty-four-hour sales, but for the handful of retail stores it would make or break their winter.

A cherry picker stopped at the far end of the short business district, and a guy wearing a hard hat climbed into the bucket with an armful of lighted garlands. They’d be looped in several spots across the width of Main Street, the way they’d been every year since Nick could remember.

That was the biggest problem with this town. Nothing ever changed.

Almost nothing, he amended as Julia unlocked the door and he followed her inside. He’d seen a lot since leaving for college at NYU, and not much surprised him anymore. Finding Julia Stanton here definitely fell into that category. Mostly because he couldn’t begin to comprehend why she’d chosen to settle down here of all places. Wealthy and connected beyond belief, she could have her pick of any glamorous city on the planet.

Why Holiday Harbor?

The reporter in him loved contradiction because they always led him in unexpected directions. These days, he spent more time editing articles, courting advertisers and designing copy layouts than writing, but the newshound in him smelled a story.

Standing in the entryway, he paused to take in the two giant Christmas trees framed in the display windows on either side of the glass-front door. A vintage train circled beneath one, snaking through festively wrapped gifts that reflected the bright lights and decorations. Under the other tree was a miniature version of Holiday Harbor, complete with ersatz snow, a skating pond and a white chapel lit from inside. Light glowed in the opaque windows, giving them the appearance of candlelight.

His father’s church, he noted grimly. As if seeing the real thing hadn’t been jarring enough. When he leaned closer, he saw that the gold lettering on the tiny sign read, “Safe Harbor Church. All are welcome.”

All but him. In an instant, his mind flashed back to childhood days spent in that church. Sitting in the front pew where Dad could keep a stern eye on him, make sure he didn’t daydream through endless sermons about saints and sinners, and how God knew what was in your heart. Week after week, year after year, he’d endured it because he hadn’t had a choice. His father never struck him, never raised his voice in anger, but he beat Nick down with God’s word, an inch at a time.

His own son, Nick recalled with a flare of anger, but not his favorite son. Not even close.

Feeling ambushed by the replica, he cooled his spiking temper with a deep breath. It was a lifetime ago, he reminded himself. He was twenty-eight now, and those oppressive memories were in the past. He’d worked hard to put them behind him, and they couldn’t hurt him anymore unless he allowed them to.

“Nick?” Hearing Julia’s voice, he dragged his eyes from the seemingly idyllic scene. “Are you okay?”

“Sure. Just admiring your handiwork. Very pretty.”

She gave him the kind of long, mistrustful look he’d gotten from more women than he cared to recall. Normally, he shrugged them off and moved on, but for some reason, coming from her it bothered him. He couldn’t imagine why he cared what she thought of him, but he did, just the same.

“Really?” she asked. “I thought you hated all this.”

“I kind of said that, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did, right after you called yourself a Scrooge.”

He didn’t often regret anything, but as she frowned at him now, he wished he could take back the offhand remark. “Well, it’s not usually my thing, but the way you do it isn’t so bad.”

She gave him a quick once-over that made him want to squirm. “You’re trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”

Busted, he thought, hoping to turn things around with a smile. “Maybe a little.”

Shaking her head, she returned the smile, and he congratulated himself on smoothing over a potentially awkward situation. She’d been nice to him, and he found himself wanting to follow her example. Far from his usual keep-your-distance policy, it felt strange, but he could put up with it for the short time he’d be here.

As he glanced around, he noticed that the vaulted ceilings in the turn-of-the-century building allowed enough height to have a narrow walkway above. Dozens of tiny colored lights were draped along the railing, and between the posts she’d posed a stuffed version of every animal he’d ever seen. And even some he hadn’t.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at a scruffy-looking critter dangling from the top rail.

“A tree sloth. The one underneath is a ground sloth, crawling over to say hello to his friends the gorilla and the toucan. They’re discussing what to get Tarzan for Christmas.”

Without her ivory wool coat and hat, she was a dead ringer for Grace Kelly, his all-time favorite actress. More than beautiful, she always played classy characters with a surprising backbone underneath all that polish. Nick seldom considered it necessary to look beyond a woman’s appearance, but he couldn’t help wondering if Julia shared Grace’s steely quality.

With her blond hair pulled back in a gold barrette, she was dressed in gray trousers and a simple ivory sweater that made her eyes look even bluer than they had earlier. Nick didn’t know if it was the lady herself or all the lights, but in here, those eyes twinkled with a childlike enthusiasm.

It contradicted every impression he’d formed of her from press releases over the years. She was more than the cool, privileged ambassador’s daughter the media portrayed her as, which only made her more fascinating to him. “You really thought this over, didn’t you?”