Cathy Yardley - Baby, It's Cold Outside

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

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

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

“What, was he ugly or something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very philosophical.”

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

He stood, too. “No problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was torture.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which meant Emily was still available.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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