No, she couldn’t blame alcohol or abstinence or anyone other than Griffin James for the pulse pounding in her veins and the heat pooling in her belly. And now he was offering—
“I need to go,” she said as the music ended, startled to realize it wasn’t the same song that had been playing when Griffin first stepped onto the dance floor. One had blended into another—and then another?—as they swayed together.
Oh, this wasn’t good. None of this was good.
Especially not the way he trailed his hand down her arm and linked his fingers with hers. “I’ll take you home.”
Jerking her hand from his, she pointed out, “It wasn’t an invitation.”
Anticipating some kind of teasing comment, he surprised her by insisting, “You’ve been drinking, Evie. I’m not letting you drive.”
Not letting her? Everything in her should have rebelled at the arrogant comment. Only the demand didn’t sound controlling so much as it did caring...
But it wasn’t her nature to give in easily. “Maybe I’ll ask Travis to take me home.”
“Evie.” The sound of his voice sent shivers down her spine. “You don’t want Travis.”
And there it was again. That question hanging in the charged air between them.
What do you want?
And this time, there was no silencing the answer that came to mind. “I want you.”
Chapter Three
Evie awoke with a low groan. Sunlight pierced through her eyelids and straight to her brain. She longed to reach down and pull the covers up over her head, but that would require moving. And moving at the moment seemed...unwise.
She never should have had that second peppermint martini after Griffin—
Oh, God. Griffin.
Evie didn’t know if it was her heart or her stomach that gave the sudden, sickening lurch. Fuzzy bits and pieces of the night before pounded away at her temples. Her date canceling... Griffin showing up...his offer... And finally, her desperate, humiliating response...
I want you.
Could a person actually die of embarrassment? Because that admission right there might have been the nail in her coffin.
What had she been thinking? And more important, what had she done?
Still unwilling to open her eyes, Evie swallowed, shuddering a bit, and slid her hand slowly across the smooth sheets.
For her first several months in Clearville, she had stayed at the hotel. But in an effort to separate her personal life from her professional one, Evie had moved into a small cottage on the grounds. And thank God she had. How mortifying would it have been for a guest—or worse, an employee—to see Griffin James guiding her down the floral-patterned hallway and into one of the rooms!
Instead, Griffin had driven her to the cottage. The December night had been cool and crisp, a hint of woodsmoke from a distant chimney mixing with the ocean scent in the air. She’d stopped to look up at the stars, so much brighter in Clearville than they had seemed back in Portland. Or maybe she had never paused long enough to notice the way she had last night.
“Beautiful,” Griffin had murmured.
But he hadn’t been looking up at the night sky. He’d been staring down at her. He’d brushed her hair back from her face, his hands warm against her chilled skin. The sweet rush of desire weakened her knees, and Evie had swayed toward him, certain he was going to kiss her and then—
And then...
And then...nothing. Like waking from a dream just as it was getting to the good part, Evie had no idea what had happened next. Had Griffin kissed her? Had she kissed him? Had she done more than kiss him?
Her hand moved across the bed, and Evie held her breath, dreading the moment when her palm went from discovering cool, soft cotton to warm, masculine skin. But her fingers inched along, encountering nothing more shocking than a ruffled lace pillow.
Evie forced her eyelids open and cringed at the sun peeking through the curtains. Wait. Sun? She shot into a sitting position, groaning again at the way her head and stomach joined together in a nauseating mutiny. She had a split second of relief at seeing the other side of the bed empty. The sheets were still tucked in along the far edge of the mattress, the pillow right in place. No sign that Griffin had slept—or done anything else—there.
But she barely took time to exhale before she threw back the covers and glanced at the nightstand where she always charged her phone. The device wasn’t there. Which was why she hadn’t heard the alarm go off. Which was why she had no idea what time it was.
Crap! Evie scrambled out of bed. She was supposed to be helping Rory and their aunt decorate one of Hillcrest’s banquet rooms for Alexa’s bridal shower that morning.
What was her aunt going to think? Forget the fact that Evie was one of the bridesmaids and Alexa was soon to be part of the family. What did it say for her work ethic to no-show a hotel event?
Evie noticed the clock on the dresser and released a huge breath. Eight thirty. Later than she’d slept in years, but plenty of time before Alexa’s shower at ten. Still, she needed to hurry. Yanking open the closet, she reached for the first hanger she found. Her aunt and Rory would be showing up soon. They’d stored some of the presents at the cottage and—
The thought had barely crossed her mind when the sound of female voices coming from the front of the house reached Evie. She clutched the hastily grabbed clothes to her chest, but a knock on the front door warned her it was too late.
She hated being caught unprepared. What had she been thinking last night? She had to have lost her mind. Drinking, dancing...actually considering taking Griffin up on his ridiculous plan?
After the shower, she would call and thank him for seeing her home. She’d swallow her embarrassment long enough to tell him she was grateful that he hadn’t taken advantage of her foolish behavior and then flat-out refuse his ridiculous offer to fake date her.
The knocking started again, followed by Rory’s voice. “Evie? Are you in there? I tried calling your cell...”
Great. Just great! This was why she didn’t date! She was no good at juggling so many things at once. She didn’t have time to—
Have a life? Griffin’s mocking voice sounded in her mind, as sexily as if he’d whispered the words in her ear. Working hard isn’t going to get you what you wish for.
Ignoring the shivers of desire racing across her goosefleshed skin, Evie tossed the clothes onto the bed. She rubbed her hands over her face and pushed her hair back behind her ears. It was time to face the music before her cousin called out the National Guard.
After taking a deep breath, she opened the front door to her wide-awake and perfectly put-together aunt and cousin. “Hi, um, sorry, I’m not dressed yet.” Feeling more out of sorts by the second, she confessed, “I sort of slept in this morning.”
The two women exchanged a look as they stepped inside the small, shabby chic living room. “You never sleep in,” Rory stated. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Fine. I’m just...” Hungover? Humiliated? Ignoring the shots her conscience was taking at her, she weakly finished, “I’m fine. If you can give me fifteen minutes or so, I’ll help with the presents.”
“Wait.” Rory’s brows drew together as she called a halt to Evie’s quick escape. “Didn’t you have a date last night with your mystery man?”
Evie had never meant to make her date sound the least bit mysterious. She hadn’t given any details because she hadn’t wanted to admit she’d canceled twice. Leave it to Rory to spin some romantic fantasy in her mind about Wade.
Right. Because that was ridiculous. Unlike the romantic fantasies about Griffin James spinning through Evie’s head! She swore she could almost smell his aftershave mixed in with the scent of brewing coffee and could only hope that was some hangover-induced hallucination and—
Wait. She took another deep breath, making sure she wasn’t imagi
ning things. But no, she could practically taste the strong dark roast calling her name.
“Right, Evie? Evie?”
Frowning, she turned her attention from the kitchen behind her and back to her aunt and cousin. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“Well, I was trying to tell Aunt E about this guy you’ve been seeing, but you’ve been keeping all the juicy details to yourself, haven’t you?”
“Right. That’s right.” Had she set the timer on the pot the night before? She didn’t think so, but she must have. “About last night...” Evie began, ready to tell the truth about her nondate with Wade. The truth about the rest of the night would follow her to her grave.
But before she could explain, a faint sound interrupted. A slight squeak and then the familiar and yet entirely out-of-place sound of water running.
“Is that—” Rory frowned “—the shower?”
This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t possibly be happening. “I, um, you know how old this cottage is. The pipes are always rattling.”
“Rattling, sure, but I don’t remember the tap turning on by itself.”
“Evelyn Marie McClaren.” Evie cringed as her aunt interrupted the inane conversation about rusty taps. “Is there someone here?”
Rory’s jaw dropped. “Oh, my gosh! Did your date spend the night?”
“No!” Oh, no. No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening!
But if the sound of running water was unmistakable, so, too, was the opening of the bathroom door and the masculine voice that drifted down the hall. “Hey, babe, I thought you were going to join me.”
And now it was official. She’d learned without a doubt that dying of embarrassment was not possible.
Unfortunately.
* * *
Griffin had been discovered in some rather compromising situations over the years, but he’d never deliberately set out to get caught. Until he stepped into Evie McClaren’s living room wearing nothing but a towel.
He’d known during the drive to the tiny cottage the night before that he’d be putting Evie to bed rather than taking her there. She had nearly fallen asleep on the way home and had been swaying on her feet as she’d stared up at the night sky.
“Wishing on a star?” he’d asked.
“I don’t believe in wishes.”
But he had heard enough longing in her voice to know she still made them even if she had given up on them coming true.
Not this time, Griffin had vowed. Not if he had anything to say about it.
And as it turned out, he did. Unable to leave Evie on her own even after she’d crawled into bed—alone—he’d spent an uncomfortable night on the cramped love seat. He’d started a pot of coffee and was in the bathroom, contemplating shaving with a bright pink razor he’d found in the medicine cabinet, when he’d heard feminine voices.
Sound carried in the small cottage, and he’d known this was his chance.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said with a smile at the three McClaren women. “I didn’t realize Evie had company.”
“I think that should be our line,” the older woman murmured.
“You must be Evie’s aunt,” he said, holding out his hand as if he’d stepped out of a boardroom wearing a suit rather than out of the bathroom wearing a towel. “She’s told me so much about you.”
From what he’d learned of the serious, driven businesswoman, he’d expected, well, an older version of Evie. But this woman was far more at ease and amused than her niece. Faint lines crinkled around her eyes as she tried to hide a smile. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same. It seems our Evie has been keeping secrets.”
“You can say that again,” Rory muttered, a distrusting scowl on her pretty face.
“Ms. McClaren, nice to see you again.”
Evie’s cousin offered a sound that made it clear she’d seen more than enough of him. Griffin supposed he couldn’t blame her, considering the last time he’d just punched her brother, Chance, in the face.
As for Evie... Glancing at her now, he had to swallow a chuckle. Her hair was slightly mussed, and a pillow crease lined one soft cheek. Wearing a long-sleeved bubble gum–pink top over a pair of checked flannel pajama bottoms and not a speck of makeup, she looked young...and vulnerable. A word he never would have associated with the woman he’d met two months ago. Her dark blue eyes were huge in her pale face, and those same protective instincts from the night before rose up inside him again.
“I know this must all seem sudden,” he said, “but from the moment Evie and I met, I haven’t been able to get her off my mind. I’ve been counting the days until I could come back here and be the man to sweep her off her feet.”
* * *
“Have you lost your mind along with your c-clothes?” Evie demanded a few minutes later.
She tried to glare at Griffin. She really did. But every time she glanced his way, her glare turned into more of a stare as she took in the broad shoulders, muscular arms and abs that put a six-pack to shame. Not to mention the towel. A floral-printed, pastel hand towel that he had wrapped around that lean waist.
Unconcerned that he was a loosened terry-cloth knot away from naked, Griffin shrugged. “I was following along with your plan.”
“My plan? Griffin, I might not remember everything that happened last night, but I can guarantee you that no amount of candy-cane martinis would have led me to a plan that included introducing you to my aunt while you were wearing a towel!”
“Evie... I’m...hurt. Really. You don’t remember anything about last night?” A husky tease entered his voice. The towel parted slightly as he stepped closer, revealing a muscular thigh that led down to well-defined calves covered with a light dusting of dark blond hair.
Reaching out, he pushed a strand of hair away from her cheek, reminding her with a painful sense of awareness that she likely had a serious case of bedhead. She had to look a hot mess while Griffin was inches away, looking...hot.
“I didn’t say that I don’t remember anything. Just that I don’t remember everything.” But standing so close to him, bits and pieces of the night before were coming back to her. Something about wishes and stars and sweet dreams as Griffin had—oh, good grief! Had he actually tucked her in?
Heat filled Evie’s cheeks and she honestly wished the night was nothing more than a blank slate. “But I’m not talking about last night. I’m talking about this morning and how you—”
She waved a hand at his nearly naked state and then gasped as he caught her wrist and pressed her palm right against that warm, bare chest. His heart beat in a strong, steady rhythm while her own pulse skyrocketed out of the stratosphere.
“Evie,” he said patiently. “Did you see the look on your aunt’s face?”
She had. After the initial wide-eyed surprise had worn off, her aunt had looked...pleased. Happy, even.
“Your brilliant plan is working.” Griffin gave her wrist a gentle squeeze before letting go. “Unless you’d rather have me go to your aunt and cousin, and tell them that this morning was a joke and you and I aren’t romantically involved.”
Was that what she wanted? To be back at square one with little chance of proving herself to her aunt? “No, no. Don’t do that,” she argued, belatedly realizing she still had her hand pressed to his chest even without Griffin holding it there and she felt that wild rush again. Only this time, it wasn’t her heart pounding like mad but Griffin’s, pulsing beneath her palm.
Evie snatched her arm back, resisting the urge to rub her hand against the material of her pajamas to erase the burning imprint of his skin. “I mean, they’ve already jumped to their own conclusions. What would it hurt to keep up the ruse? Just until my aunt sees that I’m the perfect person to run Hillcrest House.”
“Evie...”
Picking up on the patronizing tone in his voice, she felt her shoulders stiffen. “What?” she as
ked defensively. She was well aware that a man like Griffin James—who would never have to pretend to have a life—couldn’t possibly understand why faking it was the best she could do. “It’s a good plan. Brilliant, if you didn’t say so yourself. Are you backing out already?”
“Not a chance.”
She shouldn’t have felt so relieved by his promise. A means to an end, she reminded herself. As long as Griffin was willing to play his part, she didn’t have to try to find someone else to fill the role.
“I need to get ready. I’m supposed to be helping Rory and Aunt E decorate.” As more and more of their conversation from the night before drifted back, Evie held up a warning finger. “And don’t even think about crashing Alexa’s shower.”
But Griffin only grinned at her warning. “What about your shower, Evie?” he asked. “Any chance of me crashing that?”
Chapter Four
Half an hour later, Evie rushed into Hillcrest’s parlor. She hated being late, and she’d had an added incentive for taking the fastest shower on record. She wasn’t sure if more than a dozen water droplets had hit her body. But the thought of Griffin joining her had had Evie rushing through at warp speed.
Not because she honestly thought he would invade her privacy, but because of the unrelenting, undeniable, unwanted way he’d invaded her thoughts. She hadn’t been able to strip away an article of clothing without imagining him watching her. Helping her.
Sometime during her five-second shower, however, Griffin had left the cottage. She’d found a note beneath her phone on the tiny kitchen table, telling her he’d be back after the shower—bridal shower, he’d felt the need to point out—to pick her up and take her to her car.
And at that, Evie had thought her humiliation complete. She hadn’t given a thought to her phone—or her car—since the night before.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said to her aunt and cousin as she stepped into the parlor. The warm cherry wainscot, pale pink walls and floral-print sofas were the perfect combination of elegance and romance. Extra seating had been brought in for the bridal shower, along with two tables—one for presents and another for finger foods, punch and cake—and both spreads were decorated with the blue and silver colors of the winter wedding.
Their Yuletide Promise Page 4