'Twas the Week Before Christmas

by Olivia Miles

  As a major retail owner and developer, Max and his team had pinpointed Maple Woods as the ideal location for the next major upscale shopping mall in their portfolio. The demographics were strong, and the location roughly halfway between New York and Boston made a compelling argument. He’d driven through Maple Woods and the four neighboring towns three times each in the last two months, and the thirty acres of land housing The White Barn Inn was the best site.

  He’d come to Maple Woods tonight with his renderings in hand, along with substantial market and financial research to back up his pitch, prepared to meet with the planning board and make an offer to the owner of the inn that couldn’t be beat. He’d assumed the owner would be a retired couple, happy to trade in long, relentless days of serving others for a life of comfort and financial security.

  He had assumed wrong.

  The owner of the inn was this bright, cheerful, drop-dead gorgeous creature. And something told him she wasn’t going to walk away quietly. The owner of the land, on the other hand, could most likely be bought. There was no way Holly could top his offer, and George Miller would have to be a fool to turn down what Max was prepared to offer him.

  Max rolled his luggage to a stop beside an oversize armchair near the far window. Looking around the perfectly appointed room with the white trim and soothing sage-green-painted walls, it was becoming increasingly clear that Holly had invested a lot of time and money into what had probably been a very old home in need of substantial work. The inn could hardly be pulling in enough to make her rich. And that only led to one conclusion.

  She loved this place. She wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

  Unless, Max thought, I manage to convince her otherwise.

  * * *

  Holly’s nerves were getting the better of her. She didn’t know what to talk about with Max—his easy charm and sparkling blue eyes disarmed her—and she rapidly ran through the one subject she knew best. Her inn. “Unfortunately, dinner service has already ended, but I went ahead and had the chef make up a turkey sandwich for you. It’s quite good, I can promise you that. Freshly baked bread and local produce. We use only free-range poultry. We bring in homemade pies daily, and there’s apple on the menu for today if you’d like dessert. If you’d like to go ahead and get settled, I can bring it up to you. Unless...is there anything else you need? Hot tea, perhaps? Cocoa? A glass of wine?”

  Stop rambling!

  Max’s lips twitched but he said nothing. Seemingly entertained by her formal hospitality, his eyes gleamed merrily. Holly had to admit it felt strange to be talking to a guy not that much older than herself in this manner. She wasn’t used to having guests like this; her usual weekly crowd consisted of married couples of all ages looking for a quiet and temporary escape from the hustle and bustle of their hectic city life.

  Standing alone with him in the Green Room, Holly’s eyes were instinctively drawn to the large bed between the two French windows draped in heavy Jacquard fabric. The crisp white duvet was soft and billowy and the feather pillows were plump and inviting. Holly couldn’t help but imagine Max later climbing into this very bed, and she suddenly had a strange longing to curl up into it herself. It had been a long day and Max was a welcome surprise.

  “Nice bed.”

  At the sound of Max’s voice, Holly snapped her gaze to him, her heart skipping a beat at his heated stare. She quickly composed herself, thinking of something to say about the linens or pillows, and then gave up. A look of naked amusement had taken over Max’s blue eyes. His lips curled conspiratorially.

  “A glass of wine sounds great, actually,” Max finally said, casually changing the subject and releasing Holly from her misery. “Am I allowed to go into the lobby to eat, or do I have to stay in my room?”

  Holly took a second to absorb the question, still recovering from her earlier embarrassment, and burst into laughter. Max stood before her in wide-eyed, mock innocence, still bundled in his coat, looking every picture the mischievous school boy just waiting for an opportunity to taunt the teacher.

  She really was acting like a prim headmistress. Knowing the other guests were all tucked in for the night, Holly decided she’d had enough of the uptight pleasantries. It was time to go off duty and enjoy the rest of her evening with something other than a good book for a change.

  And what better way than with this devastating charmer?

  “I’ll allow you to come out of your room if you promise to behave,” she chided. As soon as she saw Max’s surprised reaction, she immediately regretted her words.

  He flashed an openly suggestive smile and his eyes smoldered with interest. “And what happens if I don’t?”

  Rattled, Holly frantically searched for the best way to get the conversation back on track. “Then you’ll go to bed hungry.”

  “I never go to bed hungry,” Max said confidently, a cocky smirk forming at the proclamation. He shrugged out of his coat and flung it on the armchair, his lightweight wool sweater revealing a broad chest and strong arms. “Come on,” he said, motioning to the door. “You’ve made that turkey sandwich sound too good to resist.”

  Descending the stairs single file, Holly was grateful that there was no chance for Max to see her face, which burned with a mixture of pleasure and humiliation. What had gotten into her? She was a proper businesswoman. This inn was her pride and joy. Maintaining utmost professionalism was something she drilled into every member of the staff, and she herself practiced what she preached. Yet here she was positively flirting with her highest paying guest of the night. It was shameful!

  As they neared the last landing, Holly took three deep breaths to compose herself, determined not to give in to her growing attraction for her newest guest. But as her foot reached the ground floor and she turned to face him, her heart disobeyed and lurched with excitement.

  “I’ll just go to the kitchen,” she said tightly. “Why don’t you go ahead and make yourself comfortable in the lobby, and I’ll bring everything over to the coffee table near the fireplace?”

  She turned on her heel and headed to the dining room, which she already knew was empty. Often a guest or two would stay downstairs well into the night, reading a book, or lingering over a glass of wine. But not tonight. Tonight it was just Holly and Max.

  Holly and Max. Has a nice ring to it.

  Just as quickly as the thought formed, Holly pushed it aside. She had to get herself under control. This man was her guest. He was a paying customer in search of hospitality, not a date.

  Max was hot on Holly’s heels. “I’d rather put myself to use and help you, if you don’t mind. Besides, I’ve been sitting for the past five hours. The drive from Manhattan took a lot longer than expected and it would be nice to stretch my legs.”

  Holly’s stomach somersaulted as she led them into the kitchen. He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. Not that she minded. Not in the least.

  “So what brings you to Maple Woods?” she inquired, glancing behind her.

  Max stood in the entry to the kitchen, his broad shoulders filling the door frame in the most manly and thrilling way. Holly was not used to being alone in this room with any man other than Stephen, and that was different. Stephen was five years younger than she and madly in love with his college sweetheart; he was the kid brother she never had. Max, on the other hand, was anything but familiar.

  “Oh, just business.”

  Business in Maple Woods? On December 19? Holly frowned. Few people came to this small town to conduct business, much less the week before Christmas, but she knew better than to press. Max was being overtly vague and he was, after all, her guest. Most likely personal business, she surmised. He probably had a relative in town that he was visiting for the holidays.

  From the industrial-size refrigerator, Holly retrieved the sandwich Stephen had made earlier. She placed the chilled plate on the tray
and set about cutting a large wedge of pie that was resting on the butcher’s block. “Do you think this will be enough?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “More than enough, thank you.” Max ventured farther into the room and Holly felt her skin tingle. “Now what can I do to help?”

  She chuckled nervously. “Oh, just make yourself at home. You’re the guest.”

  “Nonsense,” Max said firmly. “I’ve kept you up late, it’s the least I can do. Now tell me. Where do you keep the wine?”

  Well, wasn’t he smooth? Holly smiled and resigned herself once more to his natural confidence. He had a real knack for taking control of a situation, and she liked that in a man. With any other guest, she would be appalled to even allow them entrance to the kitchen, but Max was right. It was late. No one was around. And besides, she was starting to have fun. More fun than she probably should have under the circumstances.

  “The rack is just behind that pantry door. And the glasses are in the cabinet above the sink.”

  Max strode to the wine rack and casually stuck his hands in his pockets as he perused the selection. After a brief deliberation, he made his choice then crossed the room to the cabinet to fetch a glass. With one hand gripping the stem of a second glass he arched an eyebrow and asked, “Will you be joining me?”

  Holly hesitated. He was her guest. A handsome one, but a paying one just the same. She should make a polite excuse. She should leave him to enjoy his evening in peace. But one curl of those magnificent lips was all the encouragement she needed.

  She picked up the tray and shrugged with a smile. “Why not?”

  * * *

  “So tell me more about the inn,” Max said. He took a hearty bite of the turkey sandwich, noting that Holly was accurate in her description. Turkey sandwiches usually bored him, but this one was a step above the norm. Like everything else in this place, it seemed. “How did you come about running it?”

  “This was my grandmother’s house, actually.” Holly toyed with the stem of her wine glass and forked a bite of pie from the slice on her plate. “When she passed away a little over five years ago, I inherited it. It was much too big for me to live in and since I don’t own the land I wasn’t in a position to sell. I had been working in a hotel in Boston as the special events manager at the time, and I knew this place would make a fantastic bed-and-breakfast.”

  Max nodded, absorbing the information and wondering just what to do with it. Perhaps there was a chance that Holly would be eager to move on with her life. A woman of her age and position would surely want to move back to the city at some point. What kind of life would a small town like Maple Woods hold for her? She didn’t appear to have any money of her own other than the revenue from the inn. Max was an astute enough businessman to gauge the earnings of this place, and they were hardly a reason to continue. No, she was running the business for one of two reasons: either she had no other options, which would be great, or because she loved her job.

  Max studied her from across the coffee table, noticing the way her rosy, plump lips twisted into a proud smile as she described the renovations that had gone into the house before it could be established as an inn. She gestured with her hands when she talked, underscoring her passion for the place, and despite the trepidation that stirred in his belly, Max couldn’t help but smile as he listened.

  God, was she gorgeous. Now, sitting across from her in the dimly lit room, he was able to take the time to really look at her properly, and he found her more alluring than he had even first thought. Draped at her shoulders, her hair appeared darker in this light, and an auburn glow was cast on it from the golden flames crackling in the fireplace. Her deep-set eyes were alive and innocent, twinkling with unabashed excitement as she spoke so passionately about everything that had gone into transforming the original property.

  “I’m probably boring you,” she said with only a slightly apologetic smile.

  “Not at all,” Max assured her. “It’s nice to see a person so accomplished and passionate.”

  Holly’s cheeks burned at the compliment and Max shifted uneasily. It was time to call it a night.

  Standing, he heaved a deep, long sigh, but at the sight of Holly standing to collect the plates, his worries shifted to something softer. “Let me.”

  “No, no,” she insisted, brushing away his hand. The plates were already loaded onto the tray and Holly stood straight to lock eyes with his. “Don’t worry about it. I have to go by the kitchen anyway to get to my room.”

  Her room? Max’s stomach tightened with realization. The thought of it hadn’t even occurred to him, but of course it made sense. Holly lived here. This wasn’t just an inn; it was her home.

  “I guess this is good night then.” She stared at him expectantly, a sweet smile on her lips, which were now the center of Max’s focus.

  Before he could do anything he would most certainly regret, Max stuck out his hand, accepting Holly’s slim palm into his own. He held it there for a moment, watching as her eyes clouded in confusion, deferring to him as her guest, or perhaps, waiting for him to take the lead. He swallowed hard.

  “Good night, Holly.”

  Holly gave a small smile. “Good night, Max.”

  Reluctantly, he released her small, warm fingers and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. The memory of her touch burned his palm. The fact that he hadn’t wanted to release it made his stomach turn with unease. He turned quickly and walked through the lobby to the stairs, which he took two at a time all the way to the third floor, not daring to turn back once.

  Downstairs in this giant house, a young, beautiful woman was cleaning up the dishes from the dinner she had thoughtfully planned just for him. She was probably eager to rest up for another day of working hard at a job she loved.

  She had no idea that as of Christmas Day, he would be the sole owner of the property, and that by the first week of January, The White Barn Inn would be torn down.

  Chapter Two

  The dining room was already buzzing with cheerful conversation by eight o’clock the next morning. There was nothing like a dusting of fresh snow to excite even the calmest of her guests, Holly had noticed over the years. With Christmas already in the air, today was no exception.

  Holly smoothed her winter-white cashmere sweater at her hips and glanced around the dining room once more. It was silly, she knew, to be so nervous over the thought of seeing a man—and one of her guests at that—but she couldn’t deny the quiver that zipped down her spine every time she caught a glimpse of a newcomer through the dining room door. He’d be arriving any minute, she was certain, and the anticipation was starting to gnaw at her. She wasn’t quite sure she had ever taken so much time in deciding what to wear to breakfast before, but the little sleep she’d gotten the night before had allowed ample time for hemming and hawing. And primping.

  Ridiculous! She scolded herself once more. Max was her guest. A friendly one, yes. A handsome one...absolutely. A charming one... Holly closed her eyes to capture the memory of that lopsided grin. But a guest nonetheless, she reminded herself firmly. And a guest that would be on his way back to the city tomorrow morning.

  “Miss Tate.”

  Holly turned at the sound of her name and smiled pleasantly at the familiar guest from the Blue Room. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Adler?”

  “Have you heard any news on the storm, dear?”

  Evelyn Adler was one of Holly’s favorite guests. She and her husband came twice a year—once in the winter and again in the summer—and Evelyn always requested the Blue Room, claiming it accentuated her eyes. While slightly eccentric, she was well-liked by all members of the staff, and Holly had personally come to see the Adlers as a Christmastime staple.

  “I checked the local news this morning,” Holly informed her, “and they’re still expecting two feet tonight.”

  “
Oh dear.” Evelyn’s brow creased and her mouth thinned as she turned to look out the window. The snow was falling steadily, coming down in small, persistent flakes, forming a fresh dusting on the white blanket that had accumulated overnight.

  Holly felt a flicker of worry as she considered the encroaching storm and the effect it would have on her guests and the Christmas traditions she had put such effort into planning. She did her best to mask the concern and said with forced brightness, “I hope it won’t keep you from enjoying some of the activities we have scheduled for the day. Ice skating on the pond, the indoor campfire with s’mores and of course, your favorite—the morning sleigh ride.”

  Evelyn managed a smile. “I do love a good sleigh ride.”

  “Wonderful. Just gather in the lobby at nine and be sure to bundle up,” Holly said, but her guest had turned her attention away, her sky-blue eyes roaming to the right of Holly’s shoulder with sudden interest.

  “My dear,” Evelyn said as she wrapped a hand around Holly’s wrist. “Who is that man?”

  Holly glanced over her shoulder to see Max standing near the doorway studying the breakfast buffet. Her pulse quickened as her breath caught in her chest. Pull it together, Holly!

  Turning back to Evelyn, she mustered a fragment of composure. “That’s one of our guests, Mrs. Adler.”

  “I’ve never seen him before!” Evelyn murmured, her eyes fixed on her subject matter.

  Holly suppressed her amusement when she noticed Nelson Adler shake his head slowly over his wife’s innocent enough behavior from his vantage point near the hearth. She said to Evelyn, “He just arrived last night.”

  Evelyn’s eyes flashed with curiosity and she darted her gaze back to Holly. “Alone?”

  Holly chuckled at the insinuation and, with the hand that wasn’t still in Evelyn’s determined grip, waved a playful finger at her beloved guest. “Now don’t you be getting any ideas into your head, Mrs. Adler.”

  Evelyn’s sharp eyes glistened at the accusation. She opened them wide, innocently explaining, “I’m just saying that if he’s alone...and you’re alone...well, do the math, dear.”