Cathy Yardley - Baby, It's Cold Outside

“When will you be back?” he asked.

Finally she met his gaze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The door opened slowly. She took a deep breath.

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

Emily goggled momentarily. This she hadn’t anticipated.

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

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

“Her?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked good enough to eat.

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.” Damn him for bringing it up.

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

“You look sort of upset.”

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

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

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

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

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

He had to be joking.

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

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

Oh, this is such a very stupid idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

No doubt about it. The man was definitely hot.

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

He chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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