Holiday Affair

by Lisa Plumley

  The cider-and-gingerbread “Snowed-In” reception should have ended three hours ago. Instead, the get-together was still in full swing. Apparently, now that all his guests had arrived, they were intent on whooping it up. The time had positively flown by.

  Well, happy guests meant things were going well. And that meant Reid had been right. Overseeing The Christmas House this season would be an easy task—even for a Scrooge like him. To confirm that, all he had to do was look around.

  The spiced cider flowed freely. The gingerbread made the rounds quickly. At times, his guests’ laughter actually overrode the Christmas carols on the sound system. People were dancing to the music, talking in groups, and even plucking off decorations from the Christmas trees to wear.

  As he watched, one of his single guests, a fiftysomething woman named Suzanne, wrapped a hank of gold garland around her neck. Fluffing it up like a feather boa, she danced her way to Rocky and Neil, a couple visiting from Vermont, and urged them to join in. They did. Before long, the whole room was boogying.

  Downstairs, in the B&B’s basement Fun Zone, more music blared—but these Christmas carols were less Bing Crosby, more 50 Cent. There was probably more dancing going on too, but Reid knew that dancing was competing with The Christmas House’s big-screen TV and video game system, the air hockey and pool tables, the shelves full of board games and books, the toys for kids of all ages, and the holiday-themed snacks that were always kept stocked downstairs. All of Reid’s underage guests were in the Fun Zone, currently being supervised by a conscientious and cheerful Amanda. She’d agreed to temporarily expand her role as Alexis and Nicole’s nanny/tutor for the sake of helping out.

  Feeling grateful to her, Reid set down the gingerbread cookies on the sideboard. A couple of guests mamboed past him. A few more started up a conga line. Several people linked arms, waved their cups of spiced cider, and sang woozily in tune to the music.

  No. Not woozily. Suddenly stricken by his guests’ shambling dance moves, extrabright grins, and expansive gestures, Reid realized the truth: His guests weren’t woozy. They were drunk!

  That wasn’t supposed to happen. The Christmas House was a family-friendly destination. Unlike most B&B’s, they’d purposely remodeled so they could offer suites that slept four or six. They’d provided activities for children (hence the downstairs Fun Zone). They’d deliberately offered nonalcoholic spiced cider and gingerbread cookies instead of wine and crudités, so the daily afternoon receptions wouldn’t devolve into happy hour.

  But somehow, some way, his guests had gotten blitzed anyway.

  This wouldn’t look good to the Edgware evaluator, Reid realized. Until half an hour ago, there’d been children present at the reception. What if they’d accidentally gotten tipsy?

  He had to investigate. He had to make sure this didn’t happen again tomorrow. There were a dozen receptions still remaining on his schedule. He had to nip this in the bud.

  Decisively, Reid approached the buffet table. He chatted with some friendly guests, then poured himself a cup of spiced cider. It smelled…boozy. He sipped. It tasted…potent. It was definitely spiked with something alcoholic. Something…tasty.

  He licked his lips, then quaffed the rest.

  Fisting his cup, Reid frowned at the cider bowl. There was only a little left—maybe an eighth of the punch bowl. The only responsible, speedy, surefire way to dispose of it was clear.

  Just as Reid finished his sixth cup of cider—after first holding the crystal punch bowl and shaking it to release every delicious drop—a hank of silver garland landed on his head.

  He plucked it off, then wrapped it around his neck. With a flourish, he flung one end back, in the style of the Red Baron’s jaunty aviation scarf. He struck a pose. His guests applauded.

  Suzanne gave him a good-natured wolf whistle.

  That cheerfully licentious sound reminded him of Karina. Where had she gotten off to, anyway? Reid had liked her. He’d really liked her. And that wasn’t the spiked cider talking, either.

  Recalling the promise Karina had made to show him the wonders of Christmas, Reid veered sideways. He felt unexpectedly fine, he realized. Maybe it was the cider that made him feel so loose and carefree. Although he typically drank harder stuff: whiskey, mescal, absinthe. Spiked apple juice was nothing! He could handle that, for sure. Of course, he was still jet-lagged, Reid remembered. That would make him feel the effects of the alcohol sooner than usual. Maybe a little more strongly too.

  Straightening amid the gaiety of the raucous reception, Reid examined his guests. None of them had hair the color of sunshine, a smile that made him feel weak, or a surfeit of cold-weather clothes better suited to an arctic expedition than to a visit to Kismet. None of them were Karina. He had to find her.

  It was his own fault for losing track of her, he knew. He could have followed her into the reception and met her children. He could have arranged to meet her later. He could have—Reid knew damn well—persuaded her to stay in the foyer with him.

  But he hadn’t. Instead, mustering the resolve of ten conscientious men, he’d quit envisioning him and Karina in a hot tub (wearing nothing but Santa hats) and had refocused on his duties at The Christmas House. He’d put his mind on the proper host-to-guest politeness track and asked if she wanted to join the reception…just when they’d been on the verge of something more. Just when that indescribable moment had happened between them, full of possibility and yearning and wanting and lust.

  Yes, lust. It was bald but true. At least on his part.

  But had he indulged himself? No.

  So…shall we go in?

  Stupider words had rarely been spoken. Reid remembered the disappointed downturn of Karina’s mouth. He’d wanted to kiss away that frown of hers. He felt certain he could still accomplish the job. In addition, he wanted to know exactly what lay beneath all those layers of Polarfleece and wool Karina had been wearing. He could imagine. And had. Vividly. Now he needed to discover the truth for himself.

  Now that he’d solved the spiked punch problem, that is.

  Congratulating himself on his innate innkeeping talents—which he’d never realized he had—Reid headed upstairs.

  Maybe Karina was getting settled in her room, he decided. He’d glimpsed her at the front desk, formally checking in, shortly after she’d gone to handle whatever alleged misdeeds her children were involved in. Which reminded him—he didn’t understand why Karina was wound so tightly about ordinary childlike behavior. But…whatever. He didn’t want to give her a parental report card. He wanted to give her a kiss. And more.

  “Hey there, cuz!” someone said from behind him.

  Reid turned. His cousin, Vanessa, stood with what looked like a wriggly brown-, black-, and white-spotted lump in her arms.

  “I’m glad I found you.” Vanessa hurried to him. Up close, it became evident that the thing in her arms was a dog. A dachshund. “I need your help with Digby, here. Usually he’s fine with being around the guests, but today he’s freaking out. Look!”

  She turned and sort of…thrust the creature at him, dog breath and all. Its floppy ears, pointed muzzle, and big brown eyes met Reid’s puzzled gaze. So did something else.

  “Is that dog wearing a sweater?” he asked.

  “Of course he is. It’s cold out.” Vanessa tightened her hold, worriedly nuzzling Digby as the dog squirmed and whined. “Besides, that’s his signature look. Digby is the official mascot of The Christmas House! He always wears his souvenir sweater, especially to the “Snowed-In” receptions. We sell tons of these getups each year to our guests who want mementos for their pet companions.”

  She rearranged Digby to show a knitted-in version of The Christmas House’s holly-wreathed, hand-painted logo, as seen on the sign in front of the B&B. It was smart, Reid had to admit.

  “Nice cross-marketing effort,” he admitted. “But I was just on my way to do something”—he gestured upstairs, where (he hoped) he’d find Karina again—“so if this can wait a while�
�”

  “You’re going upstairs? Excellent. You can take Digby with you.” Nodding, Vanessa offloaded the dachshund into Reid’s arms. He had no choice but to accept the warm, wiggly, snuffling dog. Digby felt surprisingly sturdy—capable, potentially, of knocking down a few of his tipsy guests, bowling ball–meets–bowling pin style, if he got loose and agitated at the reception. “He’ll do better away from all the hubbub,” Vanessa explained. “Just until he calms down. You’ll see all his stuff. He usually sleeps in the attic room—the small one at the very top of the stairs.”

  “That’s my room.” Reid had moved into it because of its size. It had felt cozy and, with its pitched roof, a little bit familiar. Like a tent. “You mean I’m bunking with the dog?”

  “Looks that way.” Vanessa grinned. “Thanks, cuz. And hey—I’m glad you’re back, even if it’s only for a little while.”

  She came closer and hugged him, silver garland and all. Still holding Digby in one arm, Reid hugged her back. At the contact, he felt…something. It reminded him—suspiciously—of homesickness. But he knew that couldn’t be it.

  As his grandparents had so adeptly pointed out, Reid wasn’t the least bit sentimental. Even if he had grown up in Kismet with Vanessa as his tomboyish sidekick, nearly his same age and always ready for adventure. And even if he hadn’t seen his cousin for the past, oh, too many years.

  I missed you, he wanted to say. I wish we didn’t live so far apart. When he released her, what emerged was, “I think somebody spiked the cider at the reception.”

  “Really?” Vanessa pulled away, frowning. “That’s weird. And potentially problematic, too. Especially with the secret Edgware inspector lurking around.” She bit her lip, appearing troubled. Then she waved her hand. “It was probably just an accident, though. A teenage prank. A onetime thing. I wouldn’t worry about it. We’ve got other things to think about right now.”

  Like Karina. Reid sighed. Then he snapped out of it.

  “Other things to think about? Like what?”

  Vanessa gave him a curious look. “Like the annual Christmas hokey pokey dance.” She gestured toward the front room. “It’s what’s up next, and I said I’d lead it. The guests love it.”

  Reid shuddered. “No better time for me to take care of old Digby, here, then. Just put him in the bedroom?”

  Vanessa nodded. “Give him a treat and a few minutes to settle, and he’ll be out like a light. Trust me.”

  “Will do.” Wrangling a firmer grip on his doggy burden, Reid headed upstairs. “Okay, Digby!” he sang out. “Let’s gooo!”

  He could have sworn he heard Vanessa laugh.

  “That cider was definitely spiked,” she said. “This is going to be the most awesome Christmas hokey pokey ever!”

  Tiptoeing down the attic hallway, Karina could have sworn she heard singing. Not Christmas carol singing, which had been going on in rowdy fashion downstairs for quite a while now—since before she’d safely seen Josh, Michael, and Olivia downstairs to the kids’ Fun Zone, then joined the reception herself—but lullaby singing. Curious, she edged toward the sound.

  Through a partially opened door, she glimpsed Reid Sullivan. He stood beside a floor cushion. On the cushion lay a snoozing dachshund. The dog—wearing a holiday sweater—seemed to be snoring.

  Had Reid been singing a lullaby to a dog? Adorable!

  Even more curious now, Karina hesitated near the doorway. Should she say something? She didn’t want to wake up the dog.

  Standing in plain sight, Reid bent. He scrutinized the dachshund. Then he stood, wearing a relieved expression. Karina recognized that expression—mothers of babies everywhere did.

  The baby—er, dachshund—was finally asleep.

  On the verge of announcing her presence, she saw Reid reach for his waffle-knit thermal shirt. It appeared to be his only concession to the cold December weather. She paused. Waited.

  Almost as though he were rewarding her patience, Reid pulled off his shirt. He bunched it up and tossed it on the comfortable-looking bed, his biceps and shoulders flexing.

  He was still wearing a T-shirt underneath. But he looked mighty fine with one less layer obscuring his muscles.

  Karina couldn’t help reacting. It just happened. “Mmmm.”

  Alertly, Reid glanced up. He spied her in the doorway.

  Pertly, she held up the sprig of mistletoe she’d been carrying. She’d found it in her room and—after several cups of hot spiced cider and two fortifying gingerbread cookies—had been inspired to employ it in her new quest to teach Reid about the wonders of Christmas. She hadn’t expected to use it so soon.

  “Mistletoe.” She wiggled it. “Traditionally, people kiss under this stuff to ensure good luck in the coming year.”

  Reid’s gaze darkened. “Interesting. Tell me more.”

  “Ancient Celts considered mistletoe an aphrodisiac.”

  “You don’t say?”

  She nodded. “It’s supposed to be magically capable of warding off evil spirits. Oh, and putting out fires, too.”

  Not that it was doing much to put out the fire Karina was currently experiencing. In her pants. Ha!

  Ugh. That was terrible. What had gotten into her?

  “Hmmm. I didn’t know that.” Reid came closer. “What else?”

  Her mind went blank. Her mouth went dry. “Um, I don’t know. I didn’t expect to run into you so soon.” Karina swallowed hard. “I was about to go looking for you downstairs.”

  “Looks like you found me.” Reid gave her a deliberately provocative look. It felt so irresistible. “Now what?”

  His mouth was surprisingly close to hers now, Karina noticed offhandedly. His hands touched her hands; his hips swayed, almost making contact with her hips. Their bodies met, exchanged warmth, then met again.

  How had they gotten this close, anyway?

  And did she really care about how? No. They were this close, Karina realized as she stood in the open doorway with him. She felt powerless to resist the pull between them. She also felt light-headed with neediness—hungry with an insatiable appetite that no amount of cookies or cider could assuage. “Now I hold up the mistletoe”—she did so with a shaky hand—“and we kiss for good luck. Christmas style.”

  Contemplatively, Reid glanced up at the mistletoe.

  He nodded. An instant later, his mouth met hers. Softly.

  Way too softly. Urgently, Karina grabbed his head with her free hand, startled to feel the silkiness of his hair between her fingers, then pulled him to her. Reid felt hard and good and strange and new and right against her, and she wanted more. She wanted it all. Right now. “More,” she breathed. “I want it all.”

  Reid delivered. Starting with their next kiss, he opened his mouth wider. He moaned, then hauled her nearer. The sprig of mistletoe wobbled. It fell away as Karina gasped, caught beneath the onslaught of Reid’s lips and teeth and tongue. Mmmm. Yes.

  Breathlessly, she leaned back. “You’re good at this.”

  “I’m a quick study.” He kissed her again. “C’mere.”

  She did. They flattened together against the open door, mouths moving, hands roving, breath mingling with murmured words and a needfulness that didn’t require conversation to be satisfied. Karina’s skin prickled. Her heartbeat soared. Her mind raced, drunk with possibility.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this!” Wantonly, she arched her back to allow Reid better access to the next layer of her clothes. She helped him take off her sweater. Eagerly, she kicked off her boots. “I’m not usually like this at all.”

  “Maybe all these clothes have you overheated.” Reid knit his brow as he studied her myriad layers. Expertly, through a tacit agreement they both shared, he removed her hat next. “You’re wearing way too much. It’s not that cold here.”

  “Actually, it’s much hotter than I expected.” Mindless of her staticky hat head, Karina gave a grinning nod. Her hair could stand up and dance a cha-cha for all she cared. Right now, she needed more of thi
s. More of Reid. She urged him closer, then tugged at his T-shirt. “Take this off,” she commanded.

  “It probably smells like dog. That’s why I was—”

  “Just do it.” They could discuss his animal welfare policies later. Karina licked her lips. “I want to see you.”

  At that, his gaze flared with interest. A moment later, his T-shirt landed on the bed behind him. Reid gave her a heady look, then nudged the door. It closed with a subtle snick.

  This is really happening, Karina realized. The “wild and crazy” holiday affair Chelsea had predicted had arrived right on schedule. Oh boy!

  Hazily, she kissed Reid again. His bare skin felt hot to the touch, his broad shoulders nearly singeing her fingertips. Very naturally, she ground her pelvis against his, wholly unable to help herself. Her reward was a preview of coming attractions. In his pants. Ha! She cracked herself up, Karina thought woozily.

  Had she, possibly, drunk something other than spiced cider?

  Who cared? Reid wanted her. She wanted him.

  Right now, Karina wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  Smacking her hands on his chest, she backed Reid up to the bed. Then she tipped him onto it. She studied him. Lasciviously.

  “You know what?” she asked in a dreamy voice. “I think I’m starting to feel the wonder of Christmas already.”

  “I think that’s my line,” Reid told her, grinning. “You’re supposed to be teaching me about Christmas, remember?”

  “Oh yeah?” Karina asked. “Well, get ready to learn, then.”

  The two of them smiled at each other, entirely in sync.

  Then Karina jumped on the bed and lost herself in the moment, knowing that forever after she would associate the mingled fragrances of mistletoe, bayberry, and dog biscuits with the single most sexually gratifying night of her life.

  She hoped.

  Almost half an hour later, she knew.