Baby It's Cold Outside Read online

  Unfortunately his comment caused her wayward mind to conjure up a picture of him naked and waist deep in hot water, the chiseled planes of his chest lit only by candlelight….

  “So, um, what have you been up to?” she asked hastily, trying to dispel the image.

  He shrugged. “I’m working on a new building. In Paris. I start after the new year.”

  “That sounds exciting,” she said wistfully. “I’ve never been to Paris. Never took the time.”

  They stood there for a second in awkward silence.

  Just tell him goodbye, she thought. Then get back to the hotel and find out if J.P. is as cute as he is nice.

  “So, er, what about you?” Colin asked before she could open her mouth and make her escape.

  “Same old, same old,” she said noncommittally. “The inn’s doing really well. In fact, I have to—”

  “The inn?” He frowned. “What inn?”

  He’d been gone for a while, she realized. “I turned the Stanfield mansion into a hotel, what, four years ago,” she supplied. “It took two years to renovate, and then the past two I’ve been building up—”

  “Stanfield,” he said, then his eyes widened. “Wait a second. You’re Emily Stanfield?”

  That’s when it hit her. He hadn’t remembered her. He hadn’t even known who she was until just now.

  Glad I made an impression, she thought, her flush of infatuation chilling as though she’d been dropped in a snowbank. “Well, it’s been great catching up, but I’ve got a hotel to run, so…”

  “A hotel. Right here in town,” he mused, and to her shock, he took her hand before she could turn and walk away. “Emily Stanfield, you’re more than my Santa, you’re my godsend.”

  She chuckled nervously, trying to ignore the sexual heat that his warm palm was sending up her arm. “That seems a little excessive for candles.”

  He smiled slowly, his eyes dark and persuasive, his voice going low. “Please, please tell me you’ve got room at the inn.”

  “What?” She blinked, confused by his sudden change of topic. “For who?”

  He took a step closer to her, and she could feel the heat coming off his body as if she were standing in front of a fireplace.

  “I was hoping,” he said, “that you might have room…for me.”

  * * *

  “I really appreciate this,” Colin said, sitting in the passenger seat of Emily’s Volvo, his bags in her trunk.

  “Your mom may never forgive me,” Emily answered with a rueful sigh, “which is going to make being on the Easter Festival committee with her next year a little unpleasant. Why couldn’t you just stay at her house again?”

  Colin grimaced. “My brother and sister and their spouses and kids are all staying there. I was sharing a room with my eight-year-old nephew, and with two more days till Christmas…”

  “Been driving you crazy, huh?” There was a hint of a smile in her voice.

  “You have no idea.”

  Colin closed his eyes, remembering the scene at the breakfast table that very morning. They’d taken turns subtly—and not-so-subtly—grilling him. Why was he moving so far away? What happened to his last girlfriend? Why was he traveling all over the place and changing jobs so often? When was he going to settle down? And the perennial why couldn’t he find a nice girl and move home to Tall Pines?

  He’d known it was a bad idea to stay at his parents’ house for the week before Christmas, while his apartment in Paris was being readied. He just hadn’t known how bad it was going to be until it was too late. The past three days had been hellish. He’d even suggested checking in to a hotel in a nearby town.

  “And be so far from the house?” his mother had protested, scandalized. “With bad weather threatening the roads? You might miss Christmas with the kids!”

  She’d had a point and he’d conceded. He did want to spend Christmas with his nieces and nephews, who were still small enough to make the whole thing fun.

  Of course, his mother had neglected to mention the fact that there was a hotel right here in town.

  He glanced over gratefully. Emily was staring intently at the road. Her auburn hair was swept up in a smooth French twist. Her high cheekbones and patrician nose, combined with her flawless skin, made her look cool and perfect, like a marble statue. Only the flash in her violet-blue eyes betrayed an inherent warmth.

  No, he corrected himself, remembering. More than warmth. Heat. He’d definitely felt heat from her gaze when he’d looked over to find her standing in front of him.

  Which called to mind his first look at her—crisp white blouse with a discreetly low neckline, knee-length black skirt, black nylons, black boots. Combined with her tasteful jewelry and her wire-rimmed glasses, she’d looked sophisticated and proper, sort of like a professor.

  He’d always had a thing for prim teacher types. They usually hid anything-but-proper desires, and he had a sneaking feeling that Miss Stanfield was no exception.

  Who would have thought that Emily Stanfield, daughter of one of the founding families and walking infomercial for all things Tall Pines, would have grown up to such a hottie?

  “You’re lucky I had a cancelation,” Emily said, still not looking at him. “It’s one of my smaller rooms, but I think you’ll find it quite comfortable.”

  Colin cleared his throat, feeling as if she could read his mind and realize the direction his thoughts were heading. “I’m surprised your family was okay with turning the mansion into a hotel,” he said, fishing around for a safe topic.

  She paused for a second. “My mother moved to Florida with her new husband. She doesn’t really care one way or the other. My father probably would’ve minded, but he died five years ago, so…”

  Colin felt guilt wash over him. “Oh, jeez. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “You haven’t been here. I didn’t expect you to.”

  He sighed. “And the town? They were okay with it—you opening a hotel?”

  “There are some people who are still getting used to it,” she answered. “You know how Tall Pines is.”

  He clenched his jaw. Everything had to be preserved, as if the smallest mailbox was some kind of historical monument. If there was a town more resistant to change, he never wanted to visit it. “Yeah,” he muttered, “I know how Tall Pines is.”

  “It’s been good for the local economy, so that’s brought a lot of people around,” she said. “And, honestly, being a Stanfield helped.”

  “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 losi
ng 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.