Cathy Yardley - Baby, It's Cold Outside

Ava Reese was probably the chairperson. She chaired nearly everything else.

Emily caught herself grinning at the traitorous thought. She blamed Colin’s influence. Not that they’d had much interaction in the two days he’d been staying with her. Still, the mere knowledge of his presence had been severely disquieting to her state of mind.

“Stanfields always do their duty,” Mayor Tim agreed. “You know, if you’d run against me for mayor, you probably would’ve won.”

“Why would I want to be mayor?” she asked, bewildered.

“I’m not saying that,” he corrected. “I’m saying you’re a big part of this town. People like you and trust you. They know they can count on you.”

She stared at him. “Tim, did you want me to be your campaign manager next year or something?”

He laughed. “That’s the other thing I like about you, Em. You’re honest and straightforward.”

“Honest, straightforward, trustworthy,” she muttered. “You’re making me sound like a Boy Scout. So spit it out. Why are you buttering me up?”

He looked thoughtfully at his roomful of guests. There were a lot of other people sitting around the large table—the mayor’s Christmas party was a long-standing tradition—but everyone else was involved in their own conversations, thankfully. Tim’s voice lowered.

“You know how everyone’s been matchmaking between us for the past year or so?”

She nodded heavily, feeling pained.

“I’ve been fighting it, too,” he pointed out. “But I’ve been thinking about it. And maybe, just maybe, they’re on to something.”

Her eyes widened. “I know you’ve asked me to dinner, but I’ve never really thought you’ve been serious about it.”

“I wasn’t,” he admitted. “But I’m not getting any younger. I’ve been focused on politics since I was in high school, Em.”

“I remember,” she said, shaking her head. “You were the only junior I knew who had a press kit.”

“It got me this far. And I’d like to go further. To do that, I’m going to need a wife.”

Now her eyes bugged out. “Holy crap, you’re not asking me to marry you, are you?”

As it happened, her statement popped out when there was a lull in all the other conversations. You could have heard a spoon drop. The entire table was riveted on the two of them.

“I’m not asking you to marry me—yet,” Tim said, eliciting a suggestive chuckle from the other partygoers. “I’m saying maybe we should try going out.”

“Oh, Tim,” Emily protested, shaking her head. “That’s not such a great idea.”

“Why not?” He managed to sound reasonable, even logical about it. “I’m not seeing anybody. And you’re not involved with anyone.” For a fraction of a second he looked tentative. “That is, you aren’t seeing anyone, are you?”

She closed her eyes. Unbidden, the image of Colin wearing just pajama pants sprang into her mind. The scent of him, the feel of his hands, his mouth…the wine-edged taste of his kiss.

“No,” she admitted, her voice ragged. “I’m not involved.”

And whose fault is that?

Not that a one-night stand really equaled involvement. That was the point of it, being one night, after all.

“So there you have it,” Tim said as if that was the only barrier to their relationship.

“You’re sweet, and we’ve known each other for a long time,” she said gently. “But—”

“You haven’t given this a fair shake,” he said implacably. “I know I’ve fallen into nice-guy syndrome with you, but if you give me a chance, I think you’ll discover we’re quite compatible.”

“Come on, Emily,” Mrs. Rutledge said from across the table. “You have to admit, you’ve been pretty chilly about the whole thing.”

“No harm in trying,” Mr. Rutledge added.

“One simple date is not going to kill you,” Mrs. Macnamara said, contributing her two cents.

Emily was appalled. Apparently they’d all ganged up on her tonight. “Let me think about it.” She saw that they were ready to ply her with a second assault, so she quickly said, “Oh, and by the way, I hear that there’s a big supermarket chain that’s trying to buy the Henderson lot.”

With that, she set off a tidal wave of debate—which was the point.

Under the cover of the heated rhetoric, she turned to Tim. “Don’t ever, ever put me on the spot like that again.”

“It wasn’t entirely my idea,” he said mildly. “You’re the one who yelped about a marriage proposal.”

“Well, I hate feeling cornered. And you’re a great guy, Tim, but I just don’t feel that way about you.”

“What way is that?”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t…that is, I’m not…Oh, hell. There’s no fire between us. No passion.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, grinning and taking a forkful of turkey from his plate.

Emily blinked. “I’m not head over heels in love with you is what I’m saying.”

“Good God.” He sounded horrified. “I’d hope not!”

She finally shook her head. “Okay, apparently somebody slipped acid in my Christmas punch, because I’m having a hard time tracking here. Weren’t you trying to date me a second ago?”

“I do think we should date. And if everything works out, I think we should get married,” he said as easily as if he were picking an item off a lunch menu. “This is political, Em, not personal. I’m not looking for somebody I’m madly in love with—assuming I could fall madly in love. Which I seriously doubt I’m capable of, by the way.”

She tilted her head, surveying him. She’d always seen him as a good guy, maybe a little too ambitious and nose-to-the-grindstone but still overall decent. Now she realized that there was something sort of melancholy about him…something he kept carefully hidden.

“You’ve never been in love?”

“Thankfully, no,” he said. “But you have. And you’ve been hurt.” He smiled, and it was genuinely kind. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Em. I’m just saying let’s be partners. Give it a try. What have you got to lose?”

She thought about it. What did she have to lose?

Again Colin blazed through her mind, almost overwhelming her senses even in the comparative dimness of memory.

I need passion, she thought.

But did she really want to fall madly in love again?

Emily started fidgeting with her linen napkin, crushing it into a wad on her lap.

It was so much easier when all I wanted was sex. She got the feeling that sex with Tim would be…

She wrinkled her forehead, trying to visualize it. Actually, she couldn’t even imagine sex with Tim. Whereas she could imagine weeklong scenarios of sex with someone far more inappropriate. Like, say, Colin.

Oh, give it a rest, you idiot.

“Trust me. It’s a cliché, but passion fades,” Tim said quietly. “Good friendships, a relationship based on partnership and mutual goals—now that’s got staying power.”

“Hmm.”

“Man, you’re stubborn,” he said, leaning back. “You’re going to the New Year’s Eve ball, right?”

She nodded.

“Flying solo, I’ll bet. Well, why don’t you go with me? Dinner here beforehand, and then the limo will drive us there and back.” He winked. “Don’t look at it as a date. Look at it as a ride share with a free meal thrown in.”

She laughed. “You’re charming, I’ll give you that.”

“Got me elected two terms in a row,” he replied smugly.

She focused back on her meal, but she was still thinking about passion. And Colin.

He’s leaving, anyway.

The thought came unbidden. He’d said he was leaving the morning after Christmas, which meant tomorrow morning. She’d only have one more night with him. Then it’d probably be years before she ever saw him again.