A dimple formed in his cheek. A sign of honest-to-goodness pleasure.
And just like that, she was strolling down memory lane.
By his smile, he wasn’t backing away from the good memories, either. “You have new uniforms,” he remarked, glancing down at her T-shirt.
“My production company sent them.” She felt self-conscious all of a sudden. “Our clothes are...on the bottom of the sea.”
“I really am sorry about that, Emilie.” He gazed softly at her, his eyes so green. “Did you lose anything special to you—I hope not.” He cleared his throat. “I was thinking about your photos. I remember you always liked to keep photos.”
She was a sentimental person, that was true. “I have my phone with me, and most of my pictures are backed up on the cloud, so I’m okay with losing most of the hard copies.”
She took a breath, attempting to ease the flutters in her stomach. Nobody was within hearing distance, so she was safe in that respect, at least, to talk about the past with him.
In a low voice, she said, “There was that...pendant you gave me. Remember, Nathan?”
It was heart-shaped, with the tiniest of rubies in the middle of a gold setting. Rubies were her birthstone, and one lazy hot afternoon, she’d mentioned to Nathan that it wasn’t fair that her birthstone was a ruby because the gem was so dear and out of her budget. She was getting some relief from the heat inside the ship’s air-conditioned jewelry store, and he was doing inventory. She was on a break and had just been babbling, really. She’d honestly had no ulterior motive. But Nathan being Nathan—or at least how he’d been back then—had surprised her with the gift later that day. Shocked her, really.
“It was for our two-month anniversary,” Nathan said huskily. “Yeah, I remember that day.”
Emilie bit her lip, suddenly realizing how dangerous this talk had become. And she had led them down this path.
“Well, I should go.” She shouldn’t feel regret that they hadn’t been able to make the relationship work. That was in the past, even though those had been the happiest times of her life.
She shook her head fiercely, pushing away those sad thoughts. “You and I will talk about the rink later,” she said firmly. “I really do have other requests that I expect you to take care of. I won’t let them go, Nathan.”
Nathan’s mouth tightened, but then he sighed and lifted up his hands in a gesture of capitulation. “We’ll discuss it another day.”
“Soon,” she informed him. “Tomorrow.”
Prescott, Jason’s gray cat, interrupted them by running into their path. Prescott braced his little legs on the floor and stared up at Nathan, meowing as if he had a complaint to lodge, too.
Emilie laughed at the cat’s adorable expression. Prescott seemed to be on her side.
Nathan chuckled softly. “Go find your owner,” he told Prescott.
To Emilie, he said, “I need to get back to work. But I’ll let you go first to make sure this great gray hunter won’t attack you. I’ve got you covered.”
Yes, he was making a joke. But it just made her feel sadder.
“You like cats,” she said. “I never knew that, either.”
“We had no cats on the ship,” he pointed out.
“Actually, what surprises me most is that you allow children to keep their pets in your inn.”
“Why would that surprise you?” He stepped silently aside while Jason bent to pick up his cat. The boy scurried off with him, tucked under his arm.
Nathan frowned at the boy. Had she said something wrong? She wasn’t sure what Nathan’s relationship was with Jason.
“Well.” Nathan nodded formally at her. “Have a good skating practice, Emilie, and thank you again for your help with ‘our project.’”
She nodded silently and watched him leave. She’d accepted two years ago, after their relationship had ended, that there were just some things she would never understand about Nathan Prescott.
He ran hot and he ran cold. Mainly, he seemed to wear a shield that kept his true thoughts hidden away from her. That had probably been true on the ship, as well, but she hadn’t recognized it back then as she was beginning to now.
Her next step—starting tomorrow—was to get his permission to use the whole ice surface for her program. The ice itself was now prepared, but the remaining problem was the lighting and the rotted boards at one end of the rink. She’d been thinking of ways around those issues—using a curtain to block the boards off, and bartering for labor with a local electrician to fix the lighting—but those were details Nathan had to sign off on. So she had to continue to try to convince him to be on her side.
At least he’d smiled at her today. But in order to truly get him on board, she’d need to understand him better. That would be the secret. Then she’d be able to put on a great show that would impress her bosses and help all the skaters on the team.
Sighing, she turned back to her troupe, wondering what she should focus on next. She still had to come up with a theme for the second show. Emilie wanted to use some of the skaters’ old routines, but how could she piece those numbers together into what was most entertaining and emotional for her audience?
This was something for her to mull over.
Vera and Jaspar were strolling past her, so Emilie lifted her hand and waved. Their story would make a nice spotlight feature for the inn. Emilie had something special in mind for the couple’s sixtieth anniversary—a touching tribute during one of her ice shows. She and Nell would have to develop the idea further, but until then...
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Nathan Prescott,” she murmured.
“Nathan Prescott?” Jaspar stopped in his tracks. He swiveled and gazed at Nathan, who was heading with purpose toward his back staircase. Probably to disappear inside his office again.
“That was little Nathan?” Jaspar asked Emilie. “Philip Prescott’s grandson?”
“Oh, did you know Nathan when he was young?” Emilie asked.
“Why, yes, we did. Nathan Prescott always used to sit right here.” Vera pointed to the couch where Jason had been sitting by the Christmas tree. “He lived in the inn with his grandparents. He and his sister. Nathan always seemed sad to me. I used to feel sorry for him, but he kept busy. His grandfather—Phil Prescott—was a hardworking man, and he expected Nathan to work hard, too, even though he was just a boy.” Vera lowered her voice. “His parents were traveling show people, you see. Always gone on tour, especially during the Christmas season. What did I say? You’ve gone pale, dear.”
“Excuse me just a minute.” Emilie held up a finger. This conversation with Nathan could not wait. “Hold that thought, Vera—I will be back later.”
Without waiting for the older couple’s reaction, Emilie ran to catch up with Nathan.
“Nathan!” she called.
In the stairwell, he turned to gaze down at her. “Is everything all right?” he asked, looking concerned.
“No, everything is not all right.”
He stilled. “What happened?”
“Your parents were show people? How come you never told me this?”
“Did Nell say something to you?” he asked cautiously.
“No. She’s tight-lipped where your personal life is concerned. She’s either very loyal, or a little scared of you. Maybe both.”
He smiled tightly. “Vera and Jaspar recognized my name, did they?”
“Yes.”
He crossed his arms. “I don’t see how it makes a difference.”
“I want to know why you never told me!”
“You didn’t ask.” Since she was blocking the stairs, Nathan headed back toward the front desk. As he leaned over to pick up a stack of mail, she followed him.
Yes, she was probably making a mistake in terms of her ulterior agenda, but she just couldn’t help it. She’d thought she’d known
Nathan better that this!
“Show people,” she hissed in Nathan’s ear. “Is that like actors, dancers, singers—what?”
“It really doesn’t make a difference,” he said coldly, brushing past her. It was as if their progress of a few minutes ago was now ancient history, and they were back to where they’d stood when she’d first arrived here. Two steps forward, one step back.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” she said, following him. He was headed upstairs again, to his lair, evidently. Washing his hands of her. Well, she wouldn’t let that happen.
She hopped in front of his path.
“Emilie, please, I need to get to work,” he said in that maddening, calm voice of his.
“Don’t get too comfortable. Once Janet is finished with the skaters, she’s expecting to interview you. You have to go on camera, too.”
“No, I don’t.”
“If you want to represent the inn and our project, then yes, you do, it’s required.”
“Nell represented us just fine,” he said stubbornly.
“Nell didn’t know your grandfather. Janet asked her for some personal anecdotes about the history of the inn, but Nell wasn’t born then. You were.”
“Janet is getting personal in the interviews?”
“It’s a human-interest story. It’s supposed to be emotional.”
“I thought it was more of an advertisement.” He looked cornered.
“No, it’s not an advertisement,” she explained. “That’s not how free promotion works. It’s a feature. Advertisements have to be paid for.”
Nathan nodded. “Right,” he muttered. “I knew that.” But he still looked troubled.
“What’s the matter?” she asked him gently. Evidently, Nathan’s fear was more than just shyness of the camera. “Why don’t you want to talk about your grandfather?”
He shook his head. “My grandfather was great. It’s an honor to talk about him. Really.”
But Nathan raked his hand through his hair and frowned at the nook Emilie had helped Nell decorate for the on-camera interviews.
In front of the Christmas tree, they’d angled a chair so that the gorgeous mountain backdrop was in view. Currently, Janet was interviewing Katya, who was openly sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks. Emilie would go to her in a moment to see how she could help the younger woman, but for now, Sergei hovered protectively nearby. His presence made Emilie less worried for Katya.
Nathan’s stare seemed far away and haunted. He appeared not to even be seeing Katya—he appeared to be gazing out at the mountains instead.
Something was bothering him. Something he wasn’t sharing with her.
“Don’t worry about the interview, Nathan. I’ll help you. Like Sergei stands by Katya.”
“That’s not necessary,” he said coldly. “I know what’s required of me, Emilie.”
Then he turned away and went over to stand by the Christmas tree.
Emilie felt rebuked. And it put an unsettled feeling in her stomach. She honestly didn’t like being at odds with him.
She didn’t like being pushed away. Or arguing with him.
She and Nathan had never had a fight on the ship. Before they’d broken up, everything had always been so free and easy with him. Her whole life on the ship had been that way. She’d been all smiles and happiness, never being a problem for other people. But since the ship had sunk and she’d ended up at Nathan’s inn, all of that was changing.
She’d been forced out of her comfort zone, and Nathan wasn’t making it easy for her. He was a much more complicated man than she’d ever realized.
Ironically, she’d been attracted to his protective nature right from the start. Nathan was a solid rock of a guy. She’d fallen in love with him the day he’d first attended one of her shows. She’d sprained her ankle while coming out of a backspin at the same time as the ship had lurched. She’d been forced to sit out the next matinee, with her ankle up, necessitating that the troupe work late into the night reblocking the show to make up for her absence. She couldn’t even work the stage lights or help with costume changes backstage. Instead, she’d been told to sit with her feet up and rest, and that had made her feel like a drag and a burden, and therefore, guilty, as if she’d done something wrong.
Nathan had sensed that, and so he’d sat with her. He’d held her hand in his and asked her to explain the show and what was going on behind the scenes, making her realize that her worth extended beyond her ability to perform. He liked her just the way she was.
She’d been a goner for him after that day. It was the only show she hadn’t really paid attention to, because she couldn’t concentrate on anything but Nathan and how sitting close to him, holding his hand, had made her feel.
Later that night, under a glorious moon and a clear night at sea, Nathan had asked her up on deck to look for shooting stars because they were sailing beneath an asteroid belt.
They had shared their first kiss that night—the most perfect first kiss she’d ever enjoyed, romantic and sweet.
Now she stared over at Nathan as he gazed stoically out the windows over the towering mountain peaks. Nathan was the same rock-solid man, just two years older, but their relationship might as well have been a lifetime away from those days.
* * *
NATHAN TRIED TO squelch the panic rising within him.
Janet’s production assistant combed his hair and then posed him on the stool. Both Janet and her assistant were skilled in prepping victims for the camera—that was certain. But Nathan couldn’t relax. He had to be on guard against Janet. He had to protect the inn, at all costs.
He felt exhausted carrying this burden. But it was necessary.
“There. I’m just going to ask you a question or two,” Janet crooned before him. She blocked the photographer with her body, but still, Nathan was acutely aware of the camera behind her.
He coughed, and the production assistant magically appeared with a bottle of water. He waved it away. He also waved away her makeup brush.
Let’s just get this over with.
Janet was regarding him, tapping her finger on her lip as she assessed him. “On second thought, I’m going to pull up a stool beside you and we’ll have a casual conversation together.”
He stiffened his spine. “That’s not necessary.”
“I’m trying to get you to relax.”
“Let me tell you about my inn. That will relax me.”
“Okay.” Janet nodded to the cameraman. A red light flashed on.
Nathan swallowed. A crowd had gathered behind Janet and her cameraman, but that wasn’t who Nathan focused on.
Jason was behind them all. Kneeling on the floor beside the couch, taking it all in silently. Like Nathan had as a boy.
Nathan focused on Jason and began to talk. He ad-libbed from the beginning of his canned spiel. His “emotional pitch” for “the story” of Prescott Inn, the one that he gave to developers and investors and guests and employees. Just a few short sentences and words from his guarded heart.
“My late grandfather built Prescott Inn as a home in the mountains for everyone who enjoys the outdoors and a sense of community. The ice rink in the pine forest is a center for our winter family, and we’re especially privileged to invite the performers from the Empress Caribbean as guests to our family.”
Here Nathan paused. The skaters gathered before him in their matching T-shirts, their elf and Santa hats. The petite skater with the blond braids had stopped crying and was listening to him thoughtfully. Most of the others smiled at him. He didn’t know where Emilie was, but he was sure she was watching from somewhere.
“We were touched by their plight,” he said, continuing. “We watched the news coverage of the ship’s accident, and we felt the despair of the passengers and crew, particularly the skaters. My niece, Nell, suggested we do something
to help. We’ve offered up our home to them, and they’re offering up to us the joy of their skating this Christmas season.”
He swallowed, looking directly into the camera. This was his appeal, his “close,” his begging—and yes, he was begging—because he desperately needed people to come out to their inn.
“I’m inviting everyone to come and join us in this family vacation. The skaters will be performing for us each afternoon in the rink in the woods. Please join us this holiday season.”
Nathan stopped. He found Jason again in the back of the crowd. The boy smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. Relieved, Nathan stood. If he didn’t escape now, Janet would pounce on him with follow-up questions.
Nathan would never be comfortable in front of a camera. Emilie was the performer between the two of them, but he’d realized during this exercise that, in fact, he’d been mistaken.
He was a performer, too. Wasn’t he giving the show of his life? He had a mask that he wore most of the day, and as he turned away from Jason, it made him feel sad and tired and ashamed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EMILIE ENTERED THE LOUNGE, hoping that Nathan had come down from his office to watch the screening of their news segment.
Her gaze scanned the crowded tables before the large-screen television.
There he was, in a far corner, at a table by himself. It was interesting to her that Nathan had spoken of “community” in his short camera segment, and yet he didn’t participate with his people.
For all his talk of “family,” he wasn’t part of a team. He was separate. Even Nell sat with Emilie’s skaters. Claude and Frank and Martha gravitated to them, too, even though the inn’s staff were off shift at the moment.
Nathan had removed himself from it all, however. She was beginning to realize that he felt it was necessary as their boss to appear separate.
Well, Emilie needed him to be part of the group. He had something very valuable to contribute.
A collective gasp rang out in the darkened lounge, and cheers began to ring out. Janet had appeared on screen, sitting in a studio with a background graphic showing—of all things—Emilie’s face.
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