Cathy Yardley - Baby, It's Cold Outside

Emily chuckled. “If there’s anything to tell.” She was trying not to get her hopes up too high. She hugged Sue goodbye, then went in search of Colin.

She found him sitting in the living room, half-hidden by the enormous Christmas tree, drinking eggnog. She paused for a minute, trying to get her bearings.

For a woman who hadn’t had sex in two years, the sight of Colin Reese was enough to blow out all her sensual circuits.

He was wearing a gray sweater that molded itself nicely to his broad shoulders, and his dark brown hair was still flecked with streaks of copper, even though it was cut shorter than she remembered…back when she used to stare at him, all those years ago. His eyes were still the same deep, deep green, she noticed, as he gazed absently across the crowded room.

Her palms started to sweat.

Just get it over with, she chided herself. No matter how much she’d fantasized about him, he was not a candidate to end her sexual drought. For one thing, he was the town’s black sheep—if word leaked out, she’d never hear the end of it.

She gripped her gift bag, took a resolute breath and walked up to him. “Hi, Colin.”

He looked at her, obviously distracted. Then he stood and focused on her, gracing her with a slow visual perusal and a lazy smile.

“Well, hi.”

She smiled back, ignoring the tingle of excitement his drawled greeting sent shooting through her. “Merry Christmas. I’m your Santa this year.”

“I’m in luck.” His deep voice sounded sinfully smooth, rich and luscious as a dark chocolate truffle.

She handed him the bag, watching as he opened it. He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Scented candles,” he said with obviously fake enthusiasm. “Thanks.”

She couldn’t help it. She giggled. “Sorry,” she said when he looked at her inquisitively. “Women usually outnumber men two to one at this party. Scented candles are normally a slam dunk.”

“Well, maybe I’ll enjoy them with a cup of tea and a bubble bath,” he joked. Unfortunately his comment caused her wayward mind to conjure up a picture of him naked and waist deep in hot water, the chiseled planes of his chest lit only by candlelight….

“So, um, what have you been up to?” she asked hastily, trying to dispel the image.

He shrugged. “I’m working on a new building. In Paris. I start after the new year.”

“That sounds exciting,” she said wistfully. “I’ve never been to Paris. Never took the time.”

They stood there for a second in awkward silence.

Just tell him goodbye, she thought. Then get back to the hotel and find out if J.P. is as cute as he is nice.

“So, er, what about you?” Colin asked before she could open her mouth and make her escape.

“Same old, same old,” she said noncommittally. “The inn’s doing really well. In fact, I have to—”

“The inn?” He frowned. “What inn?”

He’d been gone for a while, she realized. “I turned the Stanfield mansion into a hotel, what, four years ago,” she supplied. “It took two years to renovate, and then the past two I’ve been building up—”

“Stanfield,” he said, then his eyes widened. “Wait a second. You’re Emily Stanfield?”

That’s when it hit her. He hadn’t remembered her. He hadn’t even known who she was until just now.

Glad I made an impression, she thought, her flush of infatuation chilling as though she’d been dropped in a snowbank. “Well, it’s been great catching up, but I’ve got a hotel to run, so…”

“A hotel. Right here in town,” he mused, and to her shock, he took her hand before she could turn and walk away. “Emily Stanfield, you’re more than my Santa, you’re my godsend.”

She chuckled nervously, trying to ignore the sexual heat that his warm palm was sending up her arm. “That seems a little excessive for candles.”

He smiled slowly, his eyes dark and persuasive, his voice going low. “Please, please tell me you’ve got room at the inn.”

“What?” She blinked, confused by his sudden change of topic. “For who?”

He took a step closer to her, and she could feel the heat coming off his body as if she were standing in front of a fireplace.

“I was hoping,” he said, “that you might have room…for me.”

“I REALLY APPRECIATE this,” Colin said, sitting in the passenger seat of Emily’s Volvo, his bags in her trunk.

“Your mom may never forgive me,” Emily answered with a rueful sigh, “which is going to make being on the Easter Festival committee with her next year a little unpleasant. Why couldn’t you just stay at her house again?”

Colin grimaced. “My brother and sister and their spouses and kids are all staying there. I was sharing a room with my eight-year-old nephew, and with two more days till Christmas…”

“Been driving you crazy, huh?” There was a hint of a smile in her voice.

“You have no idea.”

Colin closed his eyes, remembering the scene at the breakfast table that very morning. They’d taken turns subtly—and not-so-subtly—grilling him. Why was he moving so far away? What happened to his last girlfriend? Why was he traveling all over the place and changing jobs so often? When was he going to settle down? And the perennial why couldn’t he find a nice girl and move home to Tall Pines?

He’d known it was a bad idea to stay at his parents’ house for the week before Christmas, while his apartment in Paris was being readied. He just hadn’t known how bad it was going to be until it was too late. The past three days had been hellish. He’d even suggested checking in to a hotel in a nearby town.

“And be so far from the house?” his mother had protested, scandalized. “With bad weather threatening the roads? You might miss Christmas with the kids!”

She’d had a point and he’d conceded. He did want to spend Christmas with his nieces and nephews, who were still small enough to make the whole thing fun.

Of course, his mother had neglected to mention the fact that there was a hotel right here in town.

He glanced over gratefully. Emily was staring intently at the road. Her auburn hair was swept up in a smooth French twist. Her high cheekbones and patrician nose, combined with her flawless skin, made her look cool and perfect, like a marble statue. Only the flash in her violet-blue eyes betrayed an inherent warmth.

No, he corrected himself, remembering. More than warmth. Heat. He’d definitely felt heat from her gaze when he’d looked over to find her standing in front of him.

Which called to mind his first look at her—crisp white blouse with a discreetly low neckline, knee-length black skirt, black nylons, black boots. Combined with her tasteful jewelry and her wire-rimmed glasses, she’d looked sophisticated and proper, sort of like a professor.

He’d always had a thing for prim teacher types. They usually hid anything-but-proper desires, and he had a sneaking feeling that Miss Stanfield was no exception.

Who would have thought that Emily Stanfield, daughter of one of the founding families and walking infomercial for all things Tall Pines, would have grown up to such a hottie?

“You’re lucky I had a cancelation,” Emily said, still not looking at him. “It’s one of my smaller rooms, but I think you’ll find it quite comfortable.”

Colin cleared his throat, feeling as if she could read his mind and realize the direction his thoughts were heading. “I’m surprised your family was okay with turning the mansion into a hotel,” he said, fishing around for a safe topic.

She paused for a second. “My mother moved to Florida with her new husband. She doesn’t really care one way or the other. My father probably would’ve minded, but he died five years ago, so…”