Olivia Miles – 'Twas the Week Before Christmas (страница 2)

“That makes us opposites, then. I was born and raised in Boston. I’ve been in Maple Woods for five years now and I’m still terrified of driving in the snow, especially at night.” Holly smiled.

“I’m Max, by the way. Max Hamilton. I’m booked for the next two nights. But then, you probably knew that.”

Holly accepted Max’s hand into her own, alarmed by the chill of his palm. The man must be freezing. “I had an inkling,” she said, noticing how his skin warmed slowly from the heat of her own. The subtle intimacy made her feel instantly connected to him. “I’m Holly. Holly Tate.”

“Pleased to meet you, Holly Tate.”

Sucking in a nervous breath, Holly fished through the drawer for the key to the Green Room, noting the slight quiver in her hands, but happy for a diversion. Finally locating the familiar green keychain, she handed it over to its temporary owner and went through some of the routine information about the inn. The sound of her voice, on auto-pilot, filled the room, but her attention was on anything but breakfast hours or turndown services.

It had been a long time since she’d had the pleasure of being in the company of a man as attractive as Max Hamilton, and her stomach fluttered as she looked him over. She estimated him to be in his early to mid-thirties—unmarried, she noted with a flip of her heart as he signed the registration book, left-handed, and devilishly handsome. Something about those electric blue eyes and that broad, kind smile made him instantly appealing.

“I’m past check-in, aren’t I?” Max looked slightly alarmed at the realization. “I hope they didn’t keep you at work on account of me.”

Holly took in the friendly twinkle of his eyes and genuine, lopsided grin and felt herself inwardly melt. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “And besides, they didn’t keep me at work. I own the place.”

Something in Max’s demeanor shifted and the glint of his eyes turned murky for one quick, telling second. Holly wasn’t surprised. No one expected a woman in her late twenties to be the proprietor of this establishment. She was often met with disbelief when she revealed this fact.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?” she smirked, coming around the desk.

Max curled his lips into an irresistible smile. “You definitely did,” he said.

* * *

Max Hamilton wasn’t sure what to make of this revelation. What a strange profession for a woman as young as Holly. An innkeeper? In this remote little town? He had assumed that the owner of this quaint establishment would be an elderly retired couple, not the sexy young thing that stood before him.

He’d have to rethink his strategy.

“So you own all this?” he asked, gesturing to the lobby and the rooms beyond. It was clear that a lot of attention had gone into the furnishings and decor. The house was built in the colonial style, traditional with white siding and black shutters, but large and substantial. Coming up the main drive, he’d noticed the wreaths hanging from each window by a thick crimson ribbon, the inviting lanterns the hugged the front steps, the pine garland that wrapped the awning posts. Sweeping his gaze over holiday decorations that seemed to fill every inch of the foyer in which they stood, he had to wonder if that red front door had been painted especially for the holiday. Probably, he decided.

“That’s right,” Holly nodded and then stopped herself suddenly. “Well, almost. My family’s been leasing the land for three generations, but I’ve been saving toward buying it when the lease is up.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty substantial investment.”

“You’d think so, but not in a small town like this. The Millers were the original owners of the land back in the early nineteen hundreds and the family has stayed in town for the most part. George Miller is the current owner now and he and his wife have no real use for the land, so luckily we’ve managed to come to an agreement.”

“So then you were right the first time you answered my question,” Max continued. “You really do own all this.”

“Not yet,” Holly corrected. “The lease was for ninety-nine years. It was a Christmas gift from my great-grandfather to my great-grandmother. It expires next week.”

“And then?”

“And then hopefully everything can be signed and sealed.” Holly smiled, bringing a soft blush to her otherwise creamy complexion and a spark to her hazel eyes.

Max shifted his weight from his left foot to his right, unable to match her visible excitement. He grimaced at the water seeping from his black leather loafers onto the polished floorboards. “I’m doing it again,” he warned, glancing at Holly from under the hood of his brow.

Holly laughed at his expression, saying, “Oh, I’m being rude...babbling about the history of the inn when you’ve had such a long trip and probably want to get settled.”

She bent down to pick up his luggage, but Max immediately stopped her. “I may be your guest for the evening, but I’m also a gentleman.”

Holly’s pale cheeks flushed with pleasure and she refused to meet his eye when she said, “I’ll show you to your room, then. Follow me.”

Gladly, Max thought, fighting off a suggestive smile. He did as he was told and followed her up the winding staircase to the second floor landing, and then up yet another set to the third floor. He couldn’t resist taking in the curves of her figure, the slim waist and flare of her hips under her form-fitting black skirt. Her rich, chestnut brown hair brushed her back, swaying slightly against her narrow shoulders, and he traced his gaze down the length of her long legs as she carried herself silently up the red carpet-lined stairs, careful not to disturb guests who, it seemed, had already turned in for the night.

“Here we are!” she announced breathlessly, catching his eye. Max noticed how large and round her pupils were in the dim light, how her hazel eyes had darkened to moss, interrupted by flecks of amber. Her cheeks had a slight rosiness to them, and her lips were wide and tinted with the faintest touch of ruby lip gloss.

“You honestly planned to carry my luggage all this way?” Max grinned and reflexively winked.

Holly bristled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. For the faintest hint of a second, Max wondered if this was such a good idea, after all.

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.