Baby, It's Cold Outside

“I’ll bet.”

The name Stanfield was synonymous with Tall Pines. Still, Stanfield or not, he imagined Emily was both organized and driven enough to start her own business if she wanted to. Two years younger than he was, she’d always been visible in school: editor in chief of the school newspaper, on the yearbook committee, in student government. She had been everywhere, it seemed. Her uncle had been the mayor before he’d died, and Colin could even recall Emily handing out campaign flyers, looking like a crisp autumn morning in her plaid skirt and pink sweater.

By high school, his lone goal had been escaping the Norman Rockwell normalcy of Tall Pines, while Emily had seemed to represent everything that the small town stood for. He’d hated the town but had been reluctantly fascinated with the girl, even if she never knew it.

That fascination seemed to be alive and well, he noted with some amusement.

They drove past the town square and up the hill to where the fancier houses stood, legacies of days past, when several tycoons had had hunting lodges here. The Stanfield mansion was one of the most opulent and, decked out with Christmas lights, it looked downright regal. “Wow,” he said, taking in the picture-perfect scene.

She parked the car, sending him a quicksilver smile that caused his stomach to tighten unexpectedly. “Thanks. This hotel’s my life.”

“It shows.” She’d obviously lavished a lot of love on the place.

For a brief, puzzling second, he envied the brick building.

Okay, you’re losing it.

That was why he hated the holidays, he thought as he hefted his bags and headed for the front door. They made a guy maudlin. He lived his life exactly the way he wanted it—full of adventure, with something new happening almost every day. He had no regrets. And right now the last thing he needed was to have some confusing, sentimental thoughts about a girl he hadn’t seen in years.

The large foyer had a curving staircase to the second floor. “Evening, Phillip,” she greeted a guy in a suit who stood behind an oak reception desk. “I’m going to need a key for Mr. Reese, here. For room twelve.”

The guy—Phillip—looked ruffled. “That’s going to be a problem,” he said. “The Rivers party showed up after all. They decided to brave the weather and have the vacation.”

“Oh?” Emily looked nonplussed for a second, then she turned to Colin, her expression apologetic. “I guess there’s no room at the inn after all.”

He winced. There was no way in hell he was going back to his parents’ house. “Considering the season, I don’t suppose you’ve got a manger or something,” he joked, feeling a little desperate. “I don’t take up much room.”

She shook her head. “Even the garage is filled up with cars. Sorry, Colin. I’ll drive you back.”

“Wait a second,” he said, pulling her aside, away from the inquisitive Phillip. “Seriously. Isn’t there anyplace you could stick me? Maid’s room? Good-size pantry? I’d even be happy with a broom closet.”

She sighed. “I’d love to help you out, but…”

“You don’t understand,” he interrupted. “My six-year-old niece has been waking me up at five-thirty every morning to watch Sesame Street. My eight-year-old nephew, who’s sharing my room, has been keeping me up until two because he’s convinced that there are monsters. I’ve been crammed onto an army cot.” He could see that it wasn’t getting through to her…that no matter what his plea, she was the type who could withstand it.

He swallowed hard and played his trump card.

“My mother’s been asking me why I haven’t gotten married yet,” he said. “At every. Single. Meal.”

Emily’s eyes widened. Then she laughed—a soft, rich sound that made him feel as though he’d just been brushed by mink.

“Knowing Ava, I can only imagine. I love her, but she is…” She grinned mischievously. “Shall we say, persistent.”

“As a Sherman tank.”

She looked up at the ceiling as if mentally debating something. Then she sighed. “Okay, tell you what—I converted the attic to my own private apartment,” she said. “You can crash on my couch for tonight. But just for tonight. Tomorrow we’ll think of something else.”

Gratitude washed over him. “I owe you for this. Big-time.”

She nodded absently, then went back to the desk. “I’m going to have Mr. Reese here stay with me,” she said, and Colin watched as a look of calculation and a slow smirk crossed the clerk’s face.

“On her couch,” Colin emphasized.

“Of course,” Phillip returned blandly.

“One other thing, Phillip?” Emily asked, her voice going soft. “Did a J. P. Webster check in?”

“At around six,” Phillip said. “Room five.”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

There was an edge of excitement in her voice, Colin noticed. Unexpectedly he felt irritation. Who the hell was J. P. Webster? And why did she suddenly sound so thrilled?

“Colin, why don’t you follow me and I’ll get you settled in.”

Colin followed her to a small private elevator, taking it up to her apartment. It was roomier than he’d expected. There was a small kitchen, a living room, a bathroom and the bedroom. There was even a small fireplace. It was well decorated and obviously expensive, but it still looked cozy and inviting. To his surprise, he felt tension start to ebb out of his body.

“This is it,” she said artlessly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to change really quickly, then I need to go downstairs for a while. Business.”

But that breathless quality in her voice suggested it had nothing to do with business. That irritation that Colin had felt before doubled.

“Mind if I light a fire?” he asked to give himself something to do besides ruminate on what exactly her business might be.

“Please do,” she said before shutting the bedroom door behind her.

Within minutes he had a small fire going in the hearth. The room smelled like spiced apple cider. He’d probably be asleep in minutes, he realized. He hadn’t felt this relaxed since he’d returned to Tall Pines.

He heard the bedroom door open and he turned. “I can’t thank you enough…”

His words died on his lips.

She’d changed, all right.

Emily’s hair tumbled in loose auburn waves, dancing slightly below her shoulders. She was wearing a rich red velvet robe with Stanfield Arms embroidered on the crest. He wondered absently if she was wearing anything under the robe.

Just like that, his body went hard as steel and all thoughts of sleep fled. He bit back a groan. “That must be some business.”

Her ivory cheeks flooded with color, and she avoided his gaze. “It’s nine o’clock at night. I just want to make sure that one of my…special guests…is comfortable.”

Colin didn’t say a word.

“Sheets, blankets and pillows are in the cupboard in the hallway there.” She pointed, still not looking at him. “The fridge is stocked if you’re hungry, and if you need anything, just dial eight for the front desk.”

“When will you be back?” he asked.

Finally she met his gaze.

The heat in her eyes could have set the room on fire.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” she said quietly. “So don’t wait up.”

IT WAS RISKY. Possibly even stupid, Emily thought as she belted her robe tighter around her waist. But she was going to do it anyway.

She was going to J. P. Webster’s room wearing only a silk shortie nightgown and one of the hotel robes and—if everything went perfectly—she was going to have sex.

She could only imagine what Colin was thinking of her little announcement. She’d done everything but say, “Make yourself at home, I’m off to get laid.” The look he’d given her as she’d shut the door was one of shock mixed with something else she couldn’t quite identify. She hoped it wasn’t shame on her behalf. Still, Colin was a world-famous hotshot architect now, and if rumors were true, he had romanced women all over the continent. Several continents, actually, if his mother’s complaints were to be believed. “Always with a different girl every month,” she’d griped loudly at the last Otter Lodge pancake breakfast. “Last month, a lawyer from Hong Kong…the month before, a model from Brazil….” So she’d be damned if she let herself be judged by Mr. Commitmentphobic, especially since this was going to be her first fling ever.

Emily felt heat on her cheeks. She was blushing. She knew it.

Please, please let him be cute and let me go through with this. She couldn’t face another restless night. She wanted to feel the delicious release that only a man could provide—even if it was only temporary.

She got to room five and knocked on the door. “J.P.?”

The door opened slowly. She took a deep breath.

A beautiful blond woman, also in a robe, was standing there. “Can I help you?”

Emily goggled momentarily. This she hadn’t anticipated.

“I’m sorry.” Of course he would have brought his girlfriend! God, I’m an idiot! “I was looking for J. P. Webster. I didn’t mean for it to be so late….”

“That’s quite all right,” the woman said genially. “You’ve found her.”

“Her?”

“J.P. stands for Joy Patricia. My friends call me Joy.” She held out her hand, and, dumbstruck, Emily shook it. “I’m sorry…what’s your name?”

“Oh. Right. I’m Emily Stanfield, the owner of the hotel.” And a moron. “I just wanted to stop by and make sure that you had everything you needed.”

Unfortunately J.P. did not have anything Emily needed.

“Emily! It’s so nice to finally meet you in person. And thank you again for suggesting I stay at your inn instead of spending the holiday alone while my family was in Bermuda. I got in and fell in love with this place,” Joy enthused, seeming not to notice Emily’s discomfort. “It’s everything you said it was and more.”

“Well, that is high praise,” Emily said. “And I’m glad it’s made such a good impression. I’m sure you’re exhausted. I’ll just say good night and let you sleep….”

“Are you sure you didn’t want to hang out, talk shop?” Joy asked.

Emily shook her head. Considering the real reason she’d come down, she doubted she could spend the evening discussing linen-use rates and remodel tips. “Just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“I love these robes, by the way,” Joy said, rubbing her hand over the sleeve. “I see you do, too.”

Emily was blushing again. “Normally I don’t meet business associates dressed this casually,” she said, hugging her arms and making sure her robe was still tight around her. “But I was, er, about to go to bed.”

“I see.” Emily could have sworn she saw a glimmer of humor in the woman’s eyes. “Well, good night, then.”

“Good night,” Emily echoed, then turned and made her escape.

She got in the elevator, turning the key for the top floor…and then froze.

Oh, great. Bad enough that she’d just had one of the most humiliating mistakes of her life. Now, she had Colin Reese to deal with.

When the door opened, he was making up a makeshift bed on the sofa in pajama bottoms and nothing else.

He looked good enough to eat.

All the frustration that had been building up and threatening to explode, especially in the past few months, seemed to bubble to the surface at the look of his half-naked body. Her hands itched to stroke over all that chiseled chest.

Thankfully she had the fiasco with Joy/J.P. still stinging her ego or she’d probably do something she’d regret. Like jump him.

He glanced at her, puzzled. “Forget something?”

“No,” she responded coolly. “I got finished sooner than I thought. Now I’m tired and I’m going to bed.”

Colin smirked at her. “How’d business go?”

“Fine.” Damn him for bringing it up.

He studied her as she stepped in front of him. Then he put a hand out, surprising her by touching her shoulder gently.

“You look sort of upset.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated. She ran her fingers through her hair, a gesture of frustration. “That is, I will be fine.”

“Listen, I’ve been really stressed this week,” he said. “I noticed you had a bottle of wine, but I didn’t want to open it, especially just for me. Care to join me?”

She hesitated. “I really shouldn’t,” she murmured as she breathed in some of his woodsy-smelling cologne.

“Just to unwind a bit,” he coaxed. “It’ll help you sleep.”

Emily laughed at that. Sit next to this unbelievably sexy half-dressed man, drinking wine in front of a crackling fire…and he thought that was going to make her drowsy?

He had to be joking.

He stroked her arm, distracting her. “Come on. One glass.”

“Just one,” she heard herself say and then found herself sitting on the couch.

Oh, this is such a very stupid idea.

Colin went into the kitchen, opened the fridge and got out the light pinot grigio that she’d been chilling. He poured two glasses and handed her one, sitting next to her.

“Aren’t you, uh, cold?” she said, nodding at his bare chest. If this kept up, she’d be blushing a permanent pink.

“Huh? Oh. I got sort of hot building the fire up.” He glanced at her. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

Uncomfortable is one word for it, she thought. “I wouldn’t want you to get a chill.”

He let loose one of those slow, sexy smiles. “Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I did an eighteen-month build in Iceland once. I don’t think I’ll ever feel cold again.”

She let her gaze dip down to his washboard stomach…and then lower still, to the dark blue flannel pajama pants.

No doubt about it. The man was definitely hot.

Emily took a sip of wine so hastily she choked on it. “So will the couch be comfortable enough?” she asked when her throat cleared. “You look pretty big.” His eyes widened, and she realized he’d caught exactly where she’d been looking a moment ago. “I mean broad. That is, tall. Well-proportioned!”

He chuckled.

“Oh, hell,” she said and drained the glass, barely noticing when he poured her some more. “I am not usually this stupid. I’ve just had a rough night.”

“Do tell,” he invited, taking a swallow of wine and then putting the glass down on the coffee table.

She surveyed him over the rim of her glass. “I barely even know you.”

“And yet you’re letting me sleep with you—in a manner of speaking,” he said, causing her to laugh. “So what happened?”

She took a deep breath. What the hell. It wasn’t as if he was really a citizen of Tall Pines, anyway. “Promise to keep it a secret?”

He made a gesture of crossing his heart, then held up his fingers in the Boy Scout salute.

“Okay. I was planning on having an affair tonight.” She said it quickly, all in one breath.

He let out a low whistle. “That explains the robe.” he said. She felt the heat of his gaze trace over its contours. It felt wonderful—and after the Joy incident, was a gratifying balm to her injured ego. “With whom, if I might ask?”

“An out-of-towner, someone I’ve been in correspondence with,” she said, shaking her head. The wine was warming her, she thought, letting herself sink back into the plush cushions of her sofa. Or was it the company? “Anyway, it was a disaster.”

“What, was he ugly or something?”

“Worse,” she replied, finishing her wine and putting her empty glass down. “He was a woman.”

Colin choked, then burst into laughter. Reluctantly Emily joined in.

“Serves me right for building up a fantasy around someone I haven’t even met. It seemed like a good idea in theory. Unfortunately the theory got shot to hell.”

“Why did you decide to sleep with someone you didn’t even know?”

“Let’s just say it’s been a while.” She sighed, feeling embarrassment start to swell up again. “And I thought an out-of-towner would be less, you know, complicated.”

He nodded. “This town. A fling with a resident would be like having a fling in the gazebo in the square, complete with the high school band playing accompaniment.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, grateful that he understood.

“So now what are you going to do?” He leaned back, as well, resting his chin on one arm. He looked devastatingly handsome with his hair falling rakishly over one eye. Like some kind of mischievous sex god.

She swallowed, trying to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. “I have no idea, honestly.” Emily closed her eyes, smiling ruefully. “If some gorgeous out-of-town hunk decides to stay and seduce me, maybe I’ll let him. We’ll both have a great weekend or whatever and then he’ll go on his merry way and I’ll go on mine. But I think I’m done attempting to plan for it. If it happens, it happens.”

“Very philosophical.”

She stood up, noticing that her robe had come a little undone. She tightened the belt again. “Thanks, Colin,” she said. “It’s funny, but I really do feel a lot better. I appreciate that.”

He stood, too. “No problem.”

“Good night.” Emily had started to turn and walk away when he stopped her again with a hand on her shoulder. She turned back.

Without warning, he leaned forward, kissing her with slow, deliberate, almost overwhelming intensity. His mouth was firm and hot and amazingly mobile. He didn’t assault her. Rather, he coaxed her. And before she realized what was going on, she was kissing him back with equal desire.

Her passion leaped to life. She clutched his shoulders, reveling in the feel of the muscles bunching beneath her fingertips. His tongue swept through her mouth, tracing the outline of her lips before tangling with her tongue. She moaned softly.

He pulled away, almost as out of breath as she was.

“Just thought you should know,” he rasped. “Technically I’m from out of town.”

The sentence was like a slap, bringing her temporarily dormant conscience to life. What are you doing? This is Ava Reese’s son! This is the guy who couldn’t even remember who you were a few hours ago!

“Sorry,” she breathed, taking a careful step back. “Technically isn’t going to cut it. And I’ve made enough of a fool of myself for one night.”

With that, Emily beat a hasty retreat to her bedroom, locking the door—not for her sexual safety but for his.

2

“MERRY CHRISTMAS, Uncle Colin!” his nieces and nephews chirped.

“Merry Christmas,” he answered, taking a long swallow of his coffee and trying desperately to jump-start his sluggish system. It was nine o’clock Christmas morning, and he was dragging.

He’d spent the past two nights on Emily Stanfield’s couch and had managed to get perhaps one hour’s worth of sleep total, it seemed. While comfortable, it was still a couch—and worse, a couch that put him approximately seven feet away from Emily Stanfield.

Ever since his first night they’d been the picture of civility, and the only words they’d exchanged were pleasantries and logistics: “Good morning,” “Do you need a key?” or “Please help yourself to breakfast in the dining room.”

It was torture.

“What is wrong with you?” his mother asked as she put a plate of her famous Denver omelet and hash browns in front of him. “You’re acting like a zombie. You’re not sleeping well at that hotel, are you?”

“No, it’s fine,” he lied. “I’ve just been preoccupied.”

“I knew she shouldn’t have opened that inn,” Ava fretted. “That lovely home, opened up to God-knows-who. Really a shame.”

“She’s done a great job with the place,” Colin said. “I’ve stayed in a lot of hotels, and hers is top-of-the-line.”

“Humph.” His mother sounded unconvinced. “Well, her father’s probably turning in his grave. You know how much Tall Pines and its traditions meant to him.”

“Yeah.” Then, without looking up from his French toast, Colin added, “Seems to me Emily is something of a traditionalist, too.”

His mother didn’t notice his sudden curiosity, thankfully. “Oh, she’s still a Stanfield,” she said, as if that explained everything. “She knows her duty. She’s on the Garden Club Committee, the Easter Committee, she helps plan the Otter Lodge festivals and parties.” She smirked, nudging his father. “She’s dating the mayor, you know.”

Colin’s eyes widened. “Actually, no, I didn’t know that.” And it was something of an unpleasant surprise, he realized as he felt temper start to simmer in his bloodstream. Was she hiding it from him? And what about that whole sob story about not being intimate for a long time? “How long have they been together?”

“Well, now, I wouldn’t exactly say they’re together,” his father corrected.

“Perhaps not technically. But they’re perfect for each other,” his mother continued, frowning at his father. “It’s only a matter of time.”

Colin instantly felt at ease. It was matchmaking, not an actual relationship.

Which meant Emily was still available.

And why exactly does that matter to you? She’s already shot you down once, and you’re only in town till tomorrow, anyway.

It was dumb. But for whatever reason, Emily’s availability did matter to him.

“Enough about that,” his mother said, sitting down next to him at the kitchen table. “So. You’re single again.”

He sighed, finishing a last forkful of the savory breakfast like a man enjoying his last meal. “Alas, yes.”

“You’re not thinking of marrying a French girl, are you? That’s an awfully long way to travel for a wedding.” She brightened. “Unless she’d like to live here.”

His father chuckled. “In which case, you have our blessings, sight unseen.”

Colin rolled his eyes. His father understood his mother’s relentless nature and obviously sympathized with his son, but he also knew enough to stay out of it. After all, the man had to live here. “I’m still a bit young to worry about marriage, Mom.”

“You’re thirty-four,” she corrected. “Before you blink, you’ll be forty, and that’s going to be hell on your system when you get to 2:00 a.m. feedings.”

“Let me worry about the wife first,” he grumbled, “before stressing about our kids.”

“You need someone who can give you the stability and comfort of small-town living,” she said. “I know that you haven’t always enjoyed living in Tall Pines….”

Understatement of the year, he thought, taking another jolt of coffee.

“But I can’t help but think you’re not giving it a chance. Just like you’re not giving marriage a chance.” She crossed her arms.

This was more than her usual pestering, he noted. She was genuinely upset.

He sighed again. “Mom, we’ve had this conversation before,” he said quietly. “I love you, and I’m glad you and the rest of the family want me to be settled and happy. But I need to travel. I need adventure. I can’t explain it,” he finished miserably. “It’s not that I don’t want to be happy. I seem to need…I don’t know…something I can’t find.”

“Well, maybe you haven’t been looking in the right places,” she pointed out.

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. On top of very little sleep, this conversation was more than he could handle. “Let’s watch the kids play with their toys, okay? I’m only in town till tomorrow morning—I’d like to enjoy it.”

“Maybe,” his mother continued with her trademark determination, “you could even look right here. Locally, I mean.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he snapped. “I’ll just go and marry Emily Stanfield tomorrow and give you a dozen more grandbabies, how about that?”

“Colin, don’t be ridiculous,” she chided. “There’s no need to be snide.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m a little tired.”

“Besides, Emily’s not right for you,” she said in a tactful tone.

Colin blinked. That wasn’t the response he was expecting.

“She means Emily wouldn’t have you in a million years.” His brother Ted entered the conversation. “Mom, where are the batteries? Kasey’s remote-control pony needs them.”

“Well, that’s insulting,” Colin said. “What’s wrong with me?”

“She’s small-town right down to her marrow,” his father pointed out. “And as is painfully evident to everyone including yourself, you’re nothing of the sort. Beyond that, she’s known for being somewhat discriminating when it comes to beaus.”