Chapter 2
“Welcome to the White Christmas Inn,” Holly said breathlessly, having run the entire length of the hall to make sure she snapped up the guest before he could leave. She skidded to a halt when she saw a tall man standing alone in the middle of the lobby. He had the same look on his face most people got when they experienced the magic of the inn firsthand.
And his face was incredibly handsome, even with his jaw dropped open as it was. A nice strong jaw, clean shaven which she appreciated. Wavy dark hair barely brushed the collar of his tailored wool coat. She got a little flutter and shook her head at her silliness. He reached out and picked at the tree then chuckled. A deep, rich sound which sent another flutter through her middle.
“We only have a real one after Thanksgiving,” she explained as he hadn’t seemed to hear her greeting. No matter what stressful thing went on in her life, she never let the guests see anything but a cheery smile.
He turned with the look of a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, then smiled. A slow, full smile that nearly made her take a step back. He was even more handsome full on than in profile, but she wasn’t going to be attracted to a guest. Especially not the first guest they’d had in nearly three weeks.
She was too busy to be distracted by shiny white teeth and a … No! Yes, he did have a dimple, her ultimate kryptonite. But what was that to her? She had a mysterious mortgage to figure out. She had no brain space to even admire him. Yet, admire him she did. And somehow, his presence drained away some of her anxiety about the mortgage.
“I’m lucky I found this place,” he said, motioning toward the door. “It’s a real mess out there.”
She looked out in surprise at the storm and tried to hide her disappointment. He was only seeking shelter, probably wouldn’t stay the night. She’d have to do some work to get him to at least stay for dinner.
“One for dinner?” she asked in her chipper sales voice. “We have a wonderful show.” She gestured at her costume.
“Yes, definitely dinner and the show,” he said, moving forward and inexplicably making her want to take a step back. He was so tall, so oozing with maleness. And way too attractive. She feared she’d reach out and stroke his shoulder. God forbid. “I think I’ll book a room for the night as well,” he continued, getting ever closer and making her feel warmer and warmer. “If you have one available, that is.”
Yes, they had rooms available. All the rooms, for that matter. Perhaps she could convince him he needed their master suite. She smiled brightly and made to turn for the check-in counter when she realized she was still unzipped. From the overly exposed expanse of her cleavage to the roots of her hair she felt a burning blush rise. Her entire back was flapping in the breeze and she had to somehow get to the desk to get his information.
Do not turn around, she commanded herself. Whatever happens, do not turn around and expose your naked backside to this handsome stranger.
His smile was mesmerizing as he continued forward. She truly felt mesmerized. That had never happened before. She shook her head and edged backwards through the archway. She slid along the wall and made it safely behind the desk. Now all she had to do was keep it together long enough to check him in and give him his key card. He’d go in the opposite direction and she could zip up her darn fool costume.
She tapped at the keyboard, trying not to think that even his name, Mason Barry was sexy. Wait a minute. When had she upgraded him from handsome to sexy? No, she didn’t find him sexy because she knew what happened when she got involved with a guest.
No man could take perpetual Christmas for long and they always gave up and moved on. Even her own father had ended up fleeing all the holiday cheer when she was five. It had broken her mother’s heart and she was sure that was what had hardened Ivy’s heart against Christmas. No, she didn’t think Mason was sexy at all.
“I hope you won’t find this odd or presumptuous,” he said, leaning over the counter. She leaned back. “But would you join me for dinner? My treat of course. It’s always so awkward to eat alone. Just a bit of conversation, no pressure.”
“I’m in the show tonight,” she said, shoving down the anguish she felt. How much would she have loved sitting across from him in the low light of their dinner theater? Have a conversation with someone she didn’t know inside out? Not at all, she reminded herself. He slumped. With disappointment? “Just one act, though. I could join you after it.” What was she doing? Her mouth kept spilling out words. “If you don’t mind dining with an elf?”
“I want very much to dine with an elf,” he said, still with the leaning. Still flaunting his dimple. His eyes were an incredibly uncommon shade of golden brown. Clear and light near the pupils and rimmed with dark, dark bronze. “I’ll make sure to make the reservation for two.”
She sighed, embarrassed. “Might as well make it now. I’ll be the one who answers when you call. We’re, uh, a bit short-staffed.”
He grinned. “Let’s do it, then.”
No, no, no. “Okay, let’s do it.” Her darn fool face would not stop smiling.
***
“Hey, where’s my elf?” he asked. The receptionist/singing elf slid onto the seat across from him in a dark blue dress instead of her costume. He’d been surprised to hear she had a passable singing voice and so far the entire show exceeded his admittedly low expectations. A few of the singers had real talent and the show itself was refreshing and light. Another thing that had surprised him was that the ample dining room was almost completely full of couples, families, and groups of friends. The place was hopping.
She patted her sleeves. “Oh, I couldn’t have eaten a leaf of lettuce in that thing. Sorry to revert back to human. I know you were looking forward to dining with an elf.”
“I thought I was, but you’re even more gorgeous as a human.” Even in the low light he could see her blushing and he found it adorable. She’d been sexy in the too-tight elf costume, but now she was a sophisticated knockout. He gestured toward her empty plate. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what you’d want.”
She smiled widely. “Fred will bring me what I like, don’t worry,” she said.
“I’m also sorry, but I never got your name,” he said.
The music soared and she leaned closer across the small table for two. “Holly. Holly Buchanan.”
He grinned at her apt name. “That’s a lucky coincidence to be called Holly and work here. Very Christmassy.”
With a smirk, she shook her head, making her auburn hair bounce forward around her shoulders. He had an almost insatiable urge to run his fingers through it.
“It’s not a coincidence,” she said. “My grandfather loved the movie White Christmas so much, he wanted to live it full time. So, when he got out of the army he worked about a million jobs and bought this place, which was pretty derelict at the time.”
“Well, it’s fantastic now,” he said.
“Yes, he and his army buddies worked on it for months. My grandfather worked his whole life to make it what it is today, and my mom and I try to keep it up to his standards.” She looked around proudly. He wondered if she could really be fulfilled living and working in a place like this.
“My room’s great. Honestly, it’s one of the nicest places I’ve stayed in and I travel a lot for my job.”
“What is your job?”
She looked honestly interested, not eager to blow past his answer and get back on the subject of herself. He found he wanted to impress her a little. A lot, actually. You want her to be as attracted to you as you are to her, he had to admit to himself.
He pulled a business card out of his wallet and wordlessly handed it to her. She had to hold it close to her face and widen her eyes to read it in the dim restaurant. In the candle light that flashed across her face, he saw her long lashes flutter. He felt a bit of a flutter himself when she did look impressed.
“Barry Talent Agency? Is that you?”
“I worked for one of the big guys up until a few months ago, then I branched out on my own. It’s doing fairly well.” It certainly wouldn’t overawe her to know he’d just lost out on the biggest opportunity he’d ever been offered. He still didn’t know where he’d gone wrong with Amanda Snyder. “I’ve got some talented singers and actors signed already,” he added, mostly to soothe his wounded pride.
“But this is awful,” she said. She looked at the stage with a bereft expression. “Almost all our regular performers are out sick right now. I only go on stage when it’s dire circumstances, and we had to cut the Santa finale because the only man still standing who can even sing at all is Fred, our waiter.”
“I’m sure he’d be fine,” he said, leaving out his thought that it was only a country dinner show. She seemed to hear it all the same though, and her eyes flashed in the candle light.
“Our Santa has the voice of an angel. Most of the people here are regular customers so they know how amazing the finale is. It’s better to leave it out than have it be subpar. Gosh, everyone will be crushed to know they missed out on performing for a Manhattan talent agent.”
He had the sudden urge to stay longer, wait for the regular performers to come back to work. It wasn’t because he wanted to see their skills. He was pretty sure none of them could hack a singing career in NYC. But he wanted to erase the look of disappointment from her face. She seemed truly upset that her employees might be upset about something.
He liked that she cared so much. But what was he thinking, spending more days up here in the boonies? It wasn’t as if he had time to waste enjoying himself with the enchanting beauty across from him. He had to get back and hustle, make up for the sting of losing Amanda. As he stared at Holly while she continued to frown at the stage, he thought she could make him forget the sting of losing Amanda. Before he could think of all the ways she could make him forget, he stuffed a bite of the steak that had just arrived in his mouth.
“Holy crap, this is delicious,” he said. The tender morsel of beef melted on his tongue, perfectly cooked and seasoned. Now he understood why the place was packed.
She beamed and tucked in to her elaborate salad. “We take a lot of pride in our meals. Once a month we have traditional Christmas dinner— turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, four different kinds of dressing, gravy like you wouldn’t believe …” she trailed off with a dreamy sigh. How could he get her to sigh like that? All the different ways flooded his mind and he had to concentrate on his plate so she wouldn’t see the desire that he was sure shined in his eyes. He snapped his attention back to her as she continued. “Of course we offer it every weekend starting the week before Thanksgiving and on Thanksgiving itself. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Thanksgiving dinner is surprisingly similar to Christmas dinner.”
He cracked up at her sincerity. “You’re right,” he said. “But I can’t believe you’re hoodwinking everyone like that.”
“The secret’s been in the turkey all along. The tryptophan makes them complacent.”
He snorted again, finding himself completely enchanted with her. He wondered if it was the delicious food or the ambience adding to his relaxed and happy state. He hadn’t felt that stress-free in ages. Even his disappointment over Amanda faded. He’d first found the holiday overload, well, overloading, but now he revelled in every twinkle and sparkle around him. As he continued to enjoy himself, his mood grew jollier and jollier. Was there actual Christmas magic here, or was it just the magic of an intelligent, funny, beautiful woman keeping him entranced?
Dinner was over too soon and he didn’t want to let her go. She got a nervous look on her face, glancing toward the gift shop and at the departing diners. He knew she was going to tell him she had some duty to attend to, so rather than risk his pride and get a rejection, he decided to let her go. For now.
Except the rambling place had far too many halls and doors. He couldn’t remember which way his room was. She caught his look of confusion and smiled.
“It happens all the time to guests on the first night. We’re like a cruise ship with too many staircases and corridors. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”
Bingo. He didn’t exactly like looking stupid in front of her, but if it got her to his door… He smiled and followed along like the lost lamb he was.
***
What was she doing? Just what exactly was she doing? Holly strolled along beside Mason, mentally berating herself for offering to show him to his room instead of just pointing the correct direction.
Yes, the place was big and some of the hallways didn’t exactly make sense, but he would have found it eventually. All she had to do was point out the various table-sized Christmas trees at every corner and tell him to take a left at the silver icicle themed tree.
Now she was heading to his room, something she absolutely shouldn’t be doing. She shouldn’t have had dinner with him, either. It was a domino effect of bad choices.
But she’d had so much fun at dinner. It had been ages since she’d had a long, interesting conversation with someone new. And even longer since that someone had been as handsome as Mason. She’d enjoyed looking at him as much as she’d enjoyed talking to him. He was straightforward, clearly passionate about his work, and seemed to care about the people he represented. That was extremely important to Holly. She could never have a relationship with someone who didn’t care about people’s feelings.
Not that she was going to have a relationship with Mason. Where had that thought come from? She glanced sideways and he tipped his head down and smiled at her. Was it an inviting smile? Was it an expectant smile? No. She couldn’t go in his room if he asked. Which she felt fairly certain he would. Her chest ached and she felt antsy all over, knowing she wanted more than anything at that moment to accept.
She only wanted to continue the amazing flow of conversation they’d had at dinner. She didn’t want him to kiss her. Oh, maybe a little. She almost stopped in the middle of the hallway she felt so muddled. She only stutter stepped, causing him to reach for her arm out of concern she might fall.
“Step on a crack?” he asked.
“Might have,” she said, trying to regain a proper state of mind by staring at the runner that went down the length of the hall. The ancient wood floorboards peeked out at the edges, reminding her they needed to be polished before the holiday rush. “These floors are original to the house and it was built in 1870.” There, getting back to treating him like a guest helped. A little.
They were at his door now, and the moment of truth. “What exactly do you do here?” he asked, clearly not wanting the night to end, either. It flattered her and made her stomach dip almost to her knees.
She closed her eyes. “What don’t I do here?” she said, not sure quite how to answer. She was the manager and the place would one day be hers. But that answer never seemed satisfying enough. “Okay, I don’t mess with the electricity, too scared of frying myself and causing a statewide blackout. We call in professionals for that, but if you named something else, I bet I’ve done it.”
“Unclogged toilets,” he said instantly.
She snorted. “Many times, especially before we modernized all the bathrooms a few years back.”
“Patched the roof.”
“Of course I’ve patched the roof. Didn’t I mention how old this place is?”
“And you’ve even been an elf in the dinner show.”
She sighed, but it wasn’t wistful. Doing all the things she did to keep the place going kept her going. It was in her blood, it made her heart sing. Even something as mundane as unclogging a toilet. She likened it to a new mother diapering her baby. It wasn’t gross. It was love. “I’ve done every part of all our shows except Santa’s.”
“Because he sings like an angel, apparently.” He leaned a little closer and raised his eyebrows.
Goosebumps jumped out on her arms and she could tell by the electricity that crackled between them that any second, any second, he was going to put his hands on her waist. She’d always been nervous about electricity. But this time she didn’t step back. Instead she tipped up her chin expectantly. Knowing it was stupid to get involved with a guest. A guest who had stumbled on them because of a storm and who would be gone the next day.
He lived in Manhattan. She lived in the middle of nowhere, hours away. He probably wouldn’t even bother to get her number. She knew all this because it had happened before. It would happen again. No man wanted to live eternal Christmas.
Does that mean I always have to be alone? she asked herself.
She didn’t wait for an answer, knowing she’d ignore it anyway. She edged an inch closer. Yes, there went the hands at the waist. She felt so alive. A kiss wouldn’t kill her. She’d armor her heart and not go too far this time. A kiss wouldn’t hurt.
Her phone went off, a violent, obnoxious buzzing. The ringtone she used for her sister. Mason jumped back and then laughed.
“An alarm system in your dress?”
She pulled her phone out of her cute, tiny evening bag. It was the only time she’d used it since she bought it on a whim and now she wanted to fling it down the nearest stairwell. “I’m sorry, but it’s my sister. Hang on just a sec.” She took a few steps away, and answered with a curt, “What?”
“Holly?”
Her sister’s raised tone erased her impatience. “What is it? Did you find something out?”
“Holly, I think mom’s really sick.”