Holiday Affair

by Lisa Plumley

  “Well, then, I guess you’ve come to the right place.”

  “Have I?” She could get lost in his eyes. They were so blue. So direct. So intense and insightful. “I’m glad.”

  “Me too.”

  His voice rasped all the way inside her, making her shiver—even in her multiple layers of cold-weather gear. Still bundled up in her sweater, shirt, T-shirt, camisole, jeans, extra sweater, scarf, hat, parka, hood, mittens, superwarm socks, and fuzzy lined boots, Karina just went on smiling.

  Chelsea had been right. She did deserve a little fun.

  This man could be a lot of fun, it occurred to her. He seemed genial, proficient, insanely fit, and intelligent enough not to make a fuss about theirs being nothing but a short-term holiday affair. He was conveniently unattached too.

  It was hardly well mannered to start spinning sexy, illicit plans from the moment they’d met. On the other hand, he did have the honey. That was a positive sign. Time was wasting!

  “So…” He lifted his gaze to her face. “What are you hoping to get out of The Christmas House experience?”

  To get lucky. To get laid. To find myself sweating and trembling in your big, strong arms, begging for more more more.

  Whoa. Her hormones were going into overdrive! Obviously, they considered this encounter to be nothing but a preview of the inevitable X-rated feature. Even as Karina stood there, attempting to summon up a reasonable answer to his reasonable question, she felt positively…overheated. Ripe. Ready.

  Well, maybe this time she didn’t have to get a grip on herself. Maybe—just maybe—this time, she could indulge.

  She deserved it, didn’t she? After her difficult year?

  It wasn’t as though she wanted to marry Honey-Buying Man standin. She just wanted to, possibly, lick him a little.

  “Oh, you know.” Karina raised her gaze audaciously to his, trying to clear her mind of the erotic visions clouding it. I’m hoping for multiple orgasms. I’m hoping for you. “I’m feeling pretty open about that.” Airily, she asked, “How about you?”

  How about me…what? Reid wondered, momentarily dazed by the unexpectedly carnal look the woman in the foyer had thrown him. He knew, somehow, that she’d been thinking about sex. Sex sex sex. With a clarity and vividness that shouldn’t have jibed with Christmas carols and hot spiced apple cider, but did.

  She’s a guest. Be professional! he commanded himself.

  It wasn’t easy. Somehow he managed. Barely. Maybe…

  “I’m just hoping to get through the next two weeks,” Reid said with utter truthfulness. “I’m not usually big on Christmas. This is all Greek to me.” He waved, indicating the decorations and the rollicking reception going on just beyond the foyer.

  The gesture reminded him of the items in his hands. He really ought to deliver that spiced cider and honey to the two guests who’d requested them. The B&B staff had arrived—belatedly but efficiently—but Reid had remained hard at work. By now, his beverage-and-sweetener-seeking guests probably thought he’d fallen into a snowbank someplace—which seemed like a pretty good idea, just at the moment. Maybe it would cool him off.

  “Well, I can help you out with that.” The woman beamed, her smile lighting her whole face—or at least as much of it as he could glimpse in the tiny space not covered by her scarf, hat, and parka hood. “I guarantee I can make you see the wonderfulness of Christmas. I love the holidays. And I love helping out too!”

  She also loved looking at him, Reid noticed, which thrilled him in a way he’d thought himself immune to by now. At Shane’s campsite, Helene had scarcely been able to get a rise out of him. What was going on now, that he felt so drawn to this woman?

  Trying to figure it out, he examined her. Legs. Check. Arms. Check. Head, face…all appeared pretty ordinary. Also, mostly shrouded in wool and quilted performance fabrics. For all he knew, his late-arriving guest had the figure of a moose. But her eyes were kind and her voice was sweet, and her aura of perky divorcée determination drew him like a bee to honey.

  In his younger, rowdier, more degenerate postdivorce days, Reid had gone through a major phase of bedding the most carefree, most innocent women…then trying to extricate himself from their expectations afterward. Those experiences had led directly to his policy of making an “I’m not sticking around” disclaimer before starting up a new relationship. It had been years since Reid had felt tempted to deviate from that rule.

  He felt tempted now. Tempted to swerve sideways, throw out the rulebook, and just…indulge. Something about the woman in front of him made him want more from life. Much more.

  More than any sensible woman should probably give him.

  “I just got in from Australia,” he blurted. “The girls and I, I mean. I won’t be sticking around here in Kismet.”

  The woman looked surprised.

  That made two of them. What the hell was he doing issuing his Standard Disclaimer? Reid wondered. He’d only approached this bundled-up woman in the first place in his official capacity as temporary innkeeper. He’d wanted to make sure she was having fun—just in case she was the secret Edgware evaluator (not likely, given her overall air of suburban naïveté). He hadn’t intended to get lured in by her eyes, intrigued by her smiles, or captivated by the feel of her hand on him.

  His shoulder still tingled where she’d touched him.

  No. No, goddamn it! He had enough to handle right now. The last thing he needed was to get himself tangled up with a new woman. Especially a cute one. Especially a perky one. Especially one—he reminded himself—who would undoubtedly want “A Commitment.”

  Well. He’d probably already put the kibosh on that idea with his Standard Disclaimer. It tended to scare off most women.

  Reid prepared himself to be disappointed.

  She shrugged. “Me neither. This trip is totally off the record books for me. What happens in Kismet stays in Kismet!”

  That was new. He’d never been answered that way before.

  If they were both determined not to play for keeps, maybe that meant all the rules were blown. Maybe that meant he could get tangled up with her. Maybe he could unwrap that long, fuzzy scarf she had on, peel off her bulky parka, find out what she looked like under all those layers of Polarfleece and wool.

  “After all, we’ve got two weeks ahead of us, right?” Her dimpled smile charmed him. “I’d say that’s more than enough time to get to know one another better. So…I’m Karina Barrett.”

  Cheerfully, she stuck out her mittened hand.

  Reid stared at it, fighting the unmistakable feeling that any contact between them might have momentous consequences. Which made no sense at all. Maybe he was still jet-lagged. Or maybe a part of him truly liked Karina Barrett. Nonsensically. Unfoundedly. Without reservations or even a glimpse of cleavage to sweeten the deal. Reid hesitated. Then…Screw it.

  As far as he could tell, Karina wasn’t even his type. And he wasn’t in the market for a holiday romance anyway. It was perfectly safe to shake her hand and get to know her better.

  He put down the cider and the honey. Karina’s gaze lingered on both…or maybe, inexplicably, only on the honey. Hmmm…

  He grasped her hand. “I’m Reid Sullivan.” Mitten-to-hand contact wasn’t as satisfying as he might have hoped. Maybe that’s why he went further. Unwisely, unprofessionally further. “Why don’t you take off your coat and stay a while, Karina?”

  Scrabbling eagerly at the zipper on her parka, Karina decided that a girl couldn’t ask for a better invitation.

  Well, maybe she could, she reasoned breathlessly as her mittened fingers jabbed at the metal fastening. Why don’t you let me stroke you all over? would have rated highly. Under slightly different circumstances, so would, Why don’t you take a nap while I do the dishes, diaper the baby, and make you hot cocoa? But as far as unexpected invitations went, Reid’s was a winner. Feeling hotter than ever, she flipped back her parka hood, then hastily whipped off her coat.

  Politely, Reid took it. Hi
s gaze skimmed flatteringly over her figure as Karina debated what to remove next: hat or scarf?

  Taking off her knit ski cap would leave her with major hat head. Scarf. Definitely. She’d been a little rushed when she’d gotten outfitted with it—along with all the rest of her cold-weather gear—in the airport ladies’ room before venturing outside and hopping on the airport shuttle with the kids. But she’d been determined not to turn up in the snowy Midwest looking like an unprepared blond bimbo from the sunshine state.

  She’d gone overboard. Her scarf was wound way too tightly.

  Ineffectually, she plucked at it, feeling frustrated.

  It figured. A hot man invited her to undress for him (okay, partially undress for him), and she was all thumbs. Argh!

  “Here.” Reid stepped nearer. “Let me help you with that.”

  He had to be kidding. He was gorgeous, friendly, muscular, patient, squeaky clean, interested in listening to her, nice smelling, funny, and helpful? This just got better and better. Karina couldn’t wait to tell Chelsea about this encounter.

  I want all the dirty details, K. You be sure to call me the instant something happens, okay? Well…It was happening!

  Even if Chelsea—probably—didn’t consider listening to be a requisite hot-male quality, Karina did. Chelsea, in her youth, probably preferred her dates to be capable of moshing. Or maybe hacking into Facebook. Or even pulling a wicked Ollie on their skateboards. Karina knew better. Listening rocked.

  Filled with anticipation—and obedient stillness—Karina stood with her chin jutting out. Reid took a workmanlike, wide-legged stance in front of her. He peered at her scarf, then gave it an experimental tug. As expected, it held fast. With easy agility, his fingers worked at the gnarled length of her scarf.

  “It’s a little tangled,” he acknowledged as he plucked and twisted. “But don’t worry—I have a lot of experience with this.”

  Karina considered rubbing herself on him. Just on a simple getting-to-know-you basis. She blinked, then cleared her throat. “You have a lot of experience with undressing women?”

  His gaze met hers, now only a few inches away. This close, she could see that his beard stubble was real—none of that razor-trimmed, boy-band stuff sported by guys who wore Axe Body Spray and watched the show XTreme Sports! on TV. His mouth quirked.

  “With unknotting tangled scarves,” he clarified.

  Making progress now, he casually brushed his knuckles along the underside of her chin. In response, a tingle swept along her jaw to her ear, leaving Karina with a sweet-sour sensation akin to biting down on the gummy worms Josh and Michael liked.

  She fought an urge to knot her scarf permanently.

  “I do have daughters, remember?” Reid’s brow knit, then cleared as he pulled her scarf free. He dropped it. “Voilà.”

  Mission accomplished. He stepped away. She felt the loss of his nearness keenly. Preposterously keenly. On the other hand, Reid Sullivan was her potential holiday-affair mate, Karina reasoned. As fated by the honey. She ought to like him. A lot.

  So far, she did. Thank you, Stephanie, for this job!

  “Thanks for the help.” Gesturing at her cast-off coat on a nearby chair and her scarf (bless you, tangled scarf!), Karina shrugged. “I’m new at this whole cold-weather thing. At home in San Diego—where I’m from—I mostly wear bikinis all the time.”

  Okay. It was a tiny exaggeration. A glib fib. But where was the harm? One teensy white lie that made her sound sexy and carefree wouldn’t hurt anybody. And it might improve her chances with Reid Sullivan, superstud and B&B guest extraordinaire.

  “Really? The B&B has a hot tub.” He hooked his thumb toward the rear of the place. “If you want, we could—”

  “Oh no! No, that’s all right!” Karina laughed as she yanked at her cardigan, trying to remove it, too. It seemed glued to her shirt underneath it via the awesome power of static cling. Her skin crackled. “A hot tub isn’t very Christmassy, is it?”

  “I don’t know.” Reid seemed genuinely mystified by the question. He was so cute with his knitted brow and full-lipped frown. “Maybe if we wore those red and white Santa hats?”

  And nothing else, Karina’s imagination suggested. The idea had merit. She gave a serious nod. “All right then. It’s a date. I’ll bring the Santa hats, and you bring—”

  Automatically, she stopped, semicertain he’d interrupt her.

  He didn’t. At the realization, she swooned a little harder.

  “—yourself, okay? I’m a simple girl with simple needs.”

  At that, Reid laughed. “No woman is simple. But I have to say…I’m looking forward to figuring out your complications.”

  “Oh? You think I’ll be that easy to decipher, huh?”

  “No. That’s the whole point.” His gaze roved over her, seeming to see beyond her unwieldy ensemble of flannel shirt, T-shirt, camisole, sweater, mittens, jeans, thick socks, and knee-high boots. Yep. Bundled up like a nun. Sexy. “I think you’ll be challenging.” His gaze lifted to her face. “I like challenging.”

  “In that case, I’ll be sure to speak in code from here on in. And maybe wear a mask part of the time, too.” Karina grinned. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you by being easy.”

  I’m so easy! her libido offered, panting. Super easy!

  At her unintentional double entendre, Karina wanted to wince. But Reid didn’t seem to notice. Actually, he seemed to be envisioning that naughty, seminaked hot tub scenario.

  Or maybe that was just her. She bet he looked great wet.

  “I doubt you could disappoint anyone,” he said. “You seem so…generous. So giving, somehow. I can’t explain it.”

  “Well, I did just hand you my coat and let you strip off my scarf. As first impressions go, that’s pretty munificent.”

  Another smile. “It’s more than that. You seem…special.”

  That’s because I’m undercover. But she couldn’t share that.

  “You do too,” Karina said. She meant it, too, she realized then. Reid was special—because of the listening and the helping. “And I’m not just saying that because of the honey, either.”

  He frowned, puzzled. Whoops. Had she said that aloud?

  They both glanced at the abandoned squeeze bottle, then at each other. Then Reid smiled as though guessing her secret—one of them, at least. A long moment stretched between them—a moment that, inexplicably, felt compatible. Relaxed. Right.

  Loath to disturb it, Karina held her breath. She hadn’t done much dating since her divorce. This was all new to her. Maybe this attraction between them was merely ho-hum flirtation?

  It felt like more…until Reid blinked and refocused.

  “So…shall we go in?” he asked.

  He angled his head, indicating the reception. It was really kicking into gear now. Karina’s fellow guests were gathered in laughing, lively groups, sharing cider and stories with each other. It looked like fun. But so did Reid. Here. With her.

  On the verge of agreeing—however reluctantly—Karina spied her sons, both kneeling on the floor beside one of the Christmas trees. As she watched, Michael picked up a wrapped box and shook it, then held it to his ear. Josh examined an airplane-shaped ornament, then nimbly plucked it from a low-hanging branch.

  Uh-oh. Her unrepentant “borrower” was at it again.

  Beside the crackling fireplace, Olivia frowned at one of the red felt stockings with embroidered cuffs. She appeared bothered by it, but Karina couldn’t figure out why.

  “Is something wrong?” Reid’s voice penetrated Karina’s consciousness, making its way past her maternal red alert. “You seem distracted, for some reason. If you don’t like parties—”

  “No, that’s not it. I’m sorry.” Why wasn’t he keeping an eagle eye on his daughters? she wondered abruptly. Surely they weren’t so angelic that they didn’t require any supervision? “It’s just that it looks as though my kids are about to give The Christmas House the full-on Barrett treatment.”


  “The Barrett treatment?”

  “Also known as making sure nothing remains unscathed, undamaged, or otherwise unspoiled,” Karina explained, newly vigilant as she watched Olivia, Michael, and Josh. “They’re sort of…demolition experts, I’m afraid.”

  Reid shrugged. “They’re kids. They can’t be that bad.”

  “You haven’t met them.” With an apologetic smile, Karina excused herself. “I’d better run interference. It was nice to meet you, Reid. I hope we run into each other again sometime.”

  His smile mesmerized her. “I feel sure we will.”

  Yes, please! Karina thought in a dither. Why had Josh, Michael, and Olivia chosen now to misbehave? Now, when things had been going so well for her and Reid? It was as though their kid radar had detected that Mommy was enjoying some adult-style fun, and they’d acted unconsciously to derail her plans.

  They’d possessed the same disruptive abilities when they’d been babies, kicking into uncanny crying jags the instant their mother had attempted to take a nap, catch up on paperwork, or log some much-needed husband-and-wife time with Eric.

  “Remember.” Reid’s eyes sparkled. “You promised to show me a little Christmas magic. I intend to hold you to that.”

  Was that a double entendre too? Or just an invitation?

  Either way, Karina was officially psyched. She grinned.

  “You’ve got no idea what you’re in for,” she said.

  Then she left Reid behind and bolted into the reception, intent on corralling her children before they unwrapped all the prop gifts, filched all the ornaments, and (possibly) performed a CSI-style DNA test on the traditional holiday stockings that hung all in a row on the mantelpiece.

  Chapter Eight

  …From the desk of Betty Sullivan

  DECEMBER 17TH

  LOCATION: THE CHRISTMAS HOUSE

  SCHEDULED EVENT: “SNOWED-IN” RECEPTION—

  3:00 P.M. TO 5:00 P.M. (DAILY)

  Carrying a fresh platter of iced gingerbread cookies, Reid paused. He glanced at the schedule written—for his guests’ convenience—on the B&B’s chalkboard, which stood on a tinsel-bedecked easel in a corner of the front room. He adjusted the platter, frowned at his watch, then looked around him.