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'Twas the Week Before Christmas
Olivia Miles


He loathed Christmas.And yet here he was feeling downright merry.Something was very wrong here. He was out of his element and he wasn’t thinking clearly, it was as simple as that. He hadn’t had a vacation in too long. He was getting swept away. Yes, that was it. It had to be. But he had a job to do, a purpose for being here, and he needed to focus. He wasn’t here to flirt with the locals or get caught up in… festive activities. The sooner he got out of this town and back to his regular life in New York, the better he’d feel.But even as he processed this reassuring thought, his stomach rolled with uneasiness. He was struggling to convince himself.And that was a problem.









He loathed Christmas. And yet here he was feeling downright merry.


Something was very wrong here.

He was out of his element and he wasn’t thinking clearly. It was as simple as that. He hadn’t had a vacation in too long. He was getting swept away. Yes, that was it. It had to be. But he had a job to do, a purpose for being here, and he needed to focus. He wasn’t here to flirt with the locals or get caught up in … festive activities. The sooner he got out of this town and back to his regular life in New York, the better he’d feel.

But even as he processed this reassuring thought, his stomach rolled with uneasiness. He was struggling to convince himself. And that was a problem.


’Twas The

Week Before

Christmas

Olivia Miles






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


OLIVIA MILES lives in Chicago with her husband, young daughter and two ridiculously pampered pups. As a city girl with a fondness for small-town charm, she enjoys incorporating both ways of life into her stories. Not a day goes by that Olivia doesn’t feel grateful for being able to pursue her passion, and sometimes she does have to pinch herself when she remembers she’s found her own Happily Ever After.

Olivia loves hearing from readers. Visit her website, www.oliviamilesbooks.com.


For my darling little girl, Avery.

May you have a dream, and may you never stop reaching for it.


Contents

Chapter One (#u96c3d976-3851-5969-82ba-2b57be45c705)

Chapter Two (#uc0d9a1c1-0073-53d0-996e-ccca51a9c6e8)

Chapter Three (#ue59624db-b1f6-52d3-aa3d-31daf67a548c)

Chapter Four (#uf08d2604-0f25-58b2-9161-b9b001884b00)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

“Looks like a storm’s about to roll in.”

“So I heard,” Holly Tate murmured distractedly. Furrowing her brow, she studied the reservation list and then glanced at the hands of the old grandfather clock at the base of the stairs. There was still one guest unaccounted for, and the dining room would be closing in fifteen minutes. Well, she’d have the chef hold a turkey sandwich and a slice of apple pie. She could always send it up to the guest’s room upon check-in, just as a courtesy. Exceptional customer service was something she took seriously, and while a few minor complaints were inevitable, The White Barn Inn had yet to receive a bad review on any travel website Holly knew of. The repeat customers she saw year after year—and the referrals they provided—always filled her heart with a sense of pride and warmth.

“They say we should get three or four inches tonight,” the assistant manager and housekeeper, Abby Webster, continued. “Steady through the morning and afternoon, but the Nor’easter’s expected to hit tomorrow night.”

Holly finally glanced out one of the tall, lead-paned windows that framed the front door. Large flakes of snow were falling steadily on the vast stretch of lawn that separated the old mansion from the main road. There would be no sense in asking the handyman to clear the path; it would be covered again in half an hour. It would have to wait until morning.

“We’re still waiting on one guest,” Holly informed her friend. Though she was Abby’s employer, the two women were also good friends. Life at the inn was quiet and occasionally confining, resulting in long days, weekends, and holiday hours. After leaving Boston five years ago to transform the large historic home she had inherited from her grandmother into a bed-and-breakfast, Holly had retained fond memories of riding bikes or lining up at the candy store on Main Street with Abby during her annual summer visits to her grandmother’s house in Maple Woods. Having lost touch years before, the friends had picked up where they had left off and grown even closer since.

“Do you want me to stick around until he arrives?” Abby asked halfheartedly.

Holly shook her head. “You go home to that handsome husband of yours,” she said. “Besides, I don’t want you driving in this kind of weather at night.”

“The streets should be plowed by the morning.” Abby stifled a yawn and pulled her red wool pea coat off the wrought-iron rack next to the front desk. She shrugged herself into a hand-knitted creamy wool hat and wrapped a matching scarf tightly around her neck. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“Have a good night,” Holly called after Abby, pulling her cardigan tighter around her waist as a cold gust of wind rushed through the open door. The flames that were burning high and steady in the fireplace in the adjacent lobby flickered precariously. Holly wove her way through the oversize sofas and chairs, pausing to plump a pillow and refold a chenille throw, and then added another log from the neatly packed pile at the side of the brick hearth.

She checked her watch again. Ten minutes until the kitchen closed. Stephen, the chef, would be eager to get home, especially in this weather. Inside the dining room, another large fireplace crackled invitingly, casting a warm, golden glow on the four couples hunched over their desserts and savoring the last sips of their red wine. Conversation was low and intimate, and Holly silently crossed the polished floorboards to the kitchen where inside a clattering of pots and pans posed as a sharp contrast to the serenity of the other areas of the inn.

“We’ve got a straggler,” Holly said, grabbing a Christmas cookie from a tray and taking a bite.

“Those are for the guests!” Stephen chided, throwing a white dishtowel over his shoulder.

“You know me.” Holly laughed. “I can never resist your gingerbread. Besides, it’s only a few weeks out of the year, so I’m entitled. I’ll hit the gym in January.”

“Sure you will.” Stephen smiled, knowing all too well that this was not true. Holly had only been saying this every Christmas season since the inn had officially opened for business four and a half years ago, and she still had every intention of following through—if she ever managed to find the time. Running the inn had become her life and she poured everything she had into doing her job well. There was little time for anything else. Or anyone else, as Stephen also liked to point out.

“Do you mind putting together a tray before you go? A turkey sandwich and a slice of pie would be perfect.”

“Are we sure this person is even going to make it in tonight?” Stephen pulled a loaf of sourdough from the basket on the counter and began slicing two thick pieces. “It’s getting bad out there.”

“Maybe not, but even if he’s already tired from a long drive, he might want a little something.” Holly perused the variety of cookies and plucked a dried-cranberry-and-nut variation off the platter. She took a quick bite, casting a furtive glance in Stephen’s direction. Delicious. “Besides, this particular gentleman is staying in the Green Room.”

“Ah,” Stephen said, laying a wedge of cheese on top of a round of heirloom tomato. Every room in the inn was named after the color of its walls, and the Green Room was the best suite in the house, right down to its king-size bed, steam shower and private balcony. Abby liked to joke that it was named the Green Room because it reeked of money, but Holly had chosen the color specifically because of the way the leaves from the trees grazed its third-floor windows in the spring.

“I should go and see if he’s arrived yet,” she said, dusting the cookie crumbs off her hands. “Thanks again for putting something together.”

“No problem,” Stephen said. “See you tomorrow afternoon.”

Holly retraced her steps to the front lobby, noting with a stir of childish glee the way the holiday lights, wrapped around garland framing each window, glowed like stars in the dimly lit room. Standing just to the left of the massive Christmas tree was a tall man hunched over the thick doormat, stomping the snow off his feet. His slightly wavy brown hair was wet and slick, and the shoulders of his black cashmere coat were dusted with fine white powder. At last!

“Welcome to The White Barn Inn,” Holly said cheerfully, watching in slight dismay as the melting snow spilled over onto the cherry wood floors. She darted to the small reception desk to grab a rag, and returning quickly to the scene of the crime, she sopped up as much of the icy water as the cloth would hold.

“I’m afraid I’ve made a bit of a mess.”

“Oh, no...it’s fine,” Holly said easily, still fixated on her task. “Just a little water, no harm done. There.” Once satisfied that the damage was under control, she stood to formally introduce herself to the latecomer and found herself face to face with a shockingly handsome man.

“Sorry again.” The guest grinned sheepishly, gesturing to the snow melting off his weather-inappropriate shoes. His turquoise eyes flickered with boyish charm.

Holly struggled to compose herself, finally finding her voice. “Good to see you arrived safely. These roads can be treacherous if you aren’t used to them.”

“No, I’m fine,” the man said mildly. He swept a hand through his damp hair and followed her over to the reception desk. “Believe it or not, there’s a country boy hiding under this city slicker.” His grin widened.

“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.

Standing alone with him in the Green Room, Holly’s eyes were instinctively drawn to the large bed between the two French windows draped in heavy Jacquard fabric. The crisp white duvet was soft and billowy and the feather pillows were plump and inviting. Holly couldn’t help but imagine Max later climbing into this very bed, and she suddenly had a strange longing to curl up into it herself. It had been a long day and Max was a welcome surprise.

“Nice bed.”

At the sound of Max’s voice, Holly snapped her gaze to him, her heart skipping a beat at his heated stare. She quickly composed herself, thinking of something to say about the linens or pillows, and then gave up. A look of naked amusement had taken over Max’s blue eyes. His lips curled conspiratorially.

“A glass of wine sounds great, actually,” Max finally said, casually changing the subject and releasing Holly from her misery. “Am I allowed to go into the lobby to eat, or do I have to stay in my room?”

Holly took a second to absorb the question, still recovering from her earlier embarrassment, and burst into laughter. Max stood before her in wide-eyed, mock innocence, still bundled in his coat, looking every picture the mischievous school boy just waiting for an opportunity to taunt the teacher.

She really was acting like a prim headmistress. Knowing the other guests were all tucked in for the night, Holly decided she’d had enough of the uptight pleasantries. It was time to go off duty and enjoy the rest of her evening with something other than a good book for a change.

And what better way than with this devastating charmer?

“I’ll allow you to come out of your room if you promise to behave,” she chided. As soon as she saw Max’s surprised reaction, she immediately regretted her words.

He flashed an openly suggestive smile and his eyes smoldered with interest. “And what happens if I don’t?”

Rattled, Holly frantically searched for the best way to get the conversation back on track. “Then you’ll go to bed hungry.”

“I never go to bed hungry,” Max said confidently, a cocky smirk forming at the proclamation. He shrugged out of his coat and flung it on the armchair, his lightweight wool sweater revealing a broad chest and strong arms. “Come on,” he said, motioning to the door. “You’ve made that turkey sandwich sound too good to resist.”

Descending the stairs single file, Holly was grateful that there was no chance for Max to see her face, which burned with a mixture of pleasure and humiliation. What had gotten into her? She was a proper businesswoman. This inn was her pride and joy. Maintaining utmost professionalism was something she drilled into every member of the staff, and she herself practiced what she preached. Yet here she was positively flirting with her highest paying guest of the night. It was shameful!

As they neared the last landing, Holly took three deep breaths to compose herself, determined not to give in to her growing attraction for her newest guest. But as her foot reached the ground floor and she turned to face him, her heart disobeyed and lurched with excitement.

“I’ll just go to the kitchen,” she said tightly. “Why don’t you go ahead and make yourself comfortable in the lobby, and I’ll bring everything over to the coffee table near the fireplace?”

She turned on her heel and headed to the dining room, which she already knew was empty. Often a guest or two would stay downstairs well into the night, reading a book, or lingering over a glass of wine. But not tonight. Tonight it was just Holly and Max.

Holly and Max. Has a nice ring to it.

Just as quickly as the thought formed, Holly pushed it aside. She had to get herself under control. This man was her guest. He was a paying customer in search of hospitality, not a date.

Max was hot on Holly’s heels. “I’d rather put myself to use and help you, if you don’t mind. Besides, I’ve been sitting for the past five hours. The drive from Manhattan took a lot longer than expected and it would be nice to stretch my legs.”

Holly’s stomach somersaulted as she led them into the kitchen. He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. Not that she minded. Not in the least.

“So what brings you to Maple Woods?” she inquired, glancing behind her.

Max stood in the entry to the kitchen, his broad shoulders filling the door frame in the most manly and thrilling way. Holly was not used to being alone in this room with any man other than Stephen, and that was different. Stephen was five years younger than she and madly in love with his college sweetheart; he was the kid brother she never had. Max, on the other hand, was anything but familiar.

“Oh, just business.”

Business in Maple Woods? On December 19? Holly frowned. Few people came to this small town to conduct business, much less the week before Christmas, but she knew better than to press. Max was being overtly vague and he was, after all, her guest. Most likely personal business, she surmised. He probably had a relative in town that he was visiting for the holidays.

From the industrial-size refrigerator, Holly retrieved the sandwich Stephen had made earlier. She placed the chilled plate on the tray and set about cutting a large wedge of pie that was resting on the butcher’s block. “Do you think this will be enough?” she asked over her shoulder.

“More than enough, thank you.” Max ventured farther into the room and Holly felt her skin tingle. “Now what can I do to help?”

She chuckled nervously. “Oh, just make yourself at home. You’re the guest.”

“Nonsense,” Max said firmly. “I’ve kept you up late, it’s the least I can do. Now tell me. Where do you keep the wine?”

Well, wasn’t he smooth? Holly smiled and resigned herself once more to his natural confidence. He had a real knack for taking control of a situation, and she liked that in a man. With any other guest, she would be appalled to even allow them entrance to the kitchen, but Max was right. It was late. No one was around. And besides, she was starting to have fun. More fun than she probably should have under the circumstances.

“The rack is just behind that pantry door. And the glasses are in the cabinet above the sink.”

Max strode to the wine rack and casually stuck his hands in his pockets as he perused the selection. After a brief deliberation, he made his choice then crossed the room to the cabinet to fetch a glass. With one hand gripping the stem of a second glass he arched an eyebrow and asked, “Will you be joining me?”

Holly hesitated. He was her guest. A handsome one, but a paying one just the same. She should make a polite excuse. She should leave him to enjoy his evening in peace. But one curl of those magnificent lips was all the encouragement she needed.

She picked up the tray and shrugged with a smile. “Why not?”

* * *

“So tell me more about the inn,” Max said. He took a hearty bite of the turkey sandwich, noting that Holly was accurate in her description. Turkey sandwiches usually bored him, but this one was a step above the norm. Like everything else in this place, it seemed. “How did you come about running it?”

“This was my grandmother’s house, actually.” Holly toyed with the stem of her wine glass and forked a bite of pie from the slice on her plate. “When she passed away a little over five years ago, I inherited it. It was much too big for me to live in and since I don’t own the land I wasn’t in a position to sell. I had been working in a hotel in Boston as the special events manager at the time, and I knew this place would make a fantastic bed-and-breakfast.”

Max nodded, absorbing the information and wondering just what to do with it. Perhaps there was a chance that Holly would be eager to move on with her life. A woman of her age and position would surely want to move back to the city at some point. What kind of life would a small town like Maple Woods hold for her? She didn’t appear to have any money of her own other than the revenue from the inn. Max was an astute enough businessman to gauge the earnings of this place, and they were hardly a reason to continue. No, she was running the business for one of two reasons: either she had no other options, which would be great, or because she loved her job.

Max studied her from across the coffee table, noticing the way her rosy, plump lips twisted into a proud smile as she described the renovations that had gone into the house before it could be established as an inn. She gestured with her hands when she talked, underscoring her passion for the place, and despite the trepidation that stirred in his belly, Max couldn’t help but smile as he listened.

God, was she gorgeous. Now, sitting across from her in the dimly lit room, he was able to take the time to really look at her properly, and he found her more alluring than he had even first thought. Draped at her shoulders, her hair appeared darker in this light, and an auburn glow was cast on it from the golden flames crackling in the fireplace. Her deep-set eyes were alive and innocent, twinkling with unabashed excitement as she spoke so passionately about everything that had gone into transforming the original property.

“I’m probably boring you,” she said with only a slightly apologetic smile.

“Not at all,” Max assured her. “It’s nice to see a person so accomplished and passionate.”

Holly’s cheeks burned at the compliment and Max shifted uneasily. It was time to call it a night.

Standing, he heaved a deep, long sigh, but at the sight of Holly standing to collect the plates, his worries shifted to something softer. “Let me.”

“No, no,” she insisted, brushing away his hand. The plates were already loaded onto the tray and Holly stood straight to lock eyes with his. “Don’t worry about it. I have to go by the kitchen anyway to get to my room.”

Her room? Max’s stomach tightened with realization. The thought of it hadn’t even occurred to him, but of course it made sense. Holly lived here. This wasn’t just an inn; it was her home.

“I guess this is good night then.” She stared at him expectantly, a sweet smile on her lips, which were now the center of Max’s focus.

Before he could do anything he would most certainly regret, Max stuck out his hand, accepting Holly’s slim palm into his own. He held it there for a moment, watching as her eyes clouded in confusion, deferring to him as her guest, or perhaps, waiting for him to take the lead. He swallowed hard.

“Good night, Holly.”

Holly gave a small smile. “Good night, Max.”

Reluctantly, he released her small, warm fingers and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. The memory of her touch burned his palm. The fact that he hadn’t wanted to release it made his stomach turn with unease. He turned quickly and walked through the lobby to the stairs, which he took two at a time all the way to the third floor, not daring to turn back once.

Downstairs in this giant house, a young, beautiful woman was cleaning up the dishes from the dinner she had thoughtfully planned just for him. She was probably eager to rest up for another day of working hard at a job she loved.

She had no idea that as of Christmas Day, he would be the sole owner of the property, and that by the first week of January, The White Barn Inn would be torn down.


Chapter Two

The dining room was already buzzing with cheerful conversation by eight o’clock the next morning. There was nothing like a dusting of fresh snow to excite even the calmest of her guests, Holly had noticed over the years. With Christmas already in the air, today was no exception.

Holly smoothed her winter-white cashmere sweater at her hips and glanced around the dining room once more. It was silly, she knew, to be so nervous over the thought of seeing a man—and one of her guests at that—but she couldn’t deny the quiver that zipped down her spine every time she caught a glimpse of a newcomer through the dining room door. He’d be arriving any minute, she was certain, and the anticipation was starting to gnaw at her. She wasn’t quite sure she had ever taken so much time in deciding what to wear to breakfast before, but the little sleep she’d gotten the night before had allowed ample time for hemming and hawing. And primping.

Ridiculous! She scolded herself once more. Max was her guest. A friendly one, yes. A handsome one...absolutely. A charming one... Holly closed her eyes to capture the memory of that lopsided grin. But a guest nonetheless, she reminded herself firmly. And a guest that would be on his way back to the city tomorrow morning.

“Miss Tate.”

Holly turned at the sound of her name and smiled pleasantly at the familiar guest from the Blue Room. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Adler?”

“Have you heard any news on the storm, dear?”

Evelyn Adler was one of Holly’s favorite guests. She and her husband came twice a year—once in the winter and again in the summer—and Evelyn always requested the Blue Room, claiming it accentuated her eyes. While slightly eccentric, she was well-liked by all members of the staff, and Holly had personally come to see the Adlers as a Christmastime staple.

“I checked the local news this morning,” Holly informed her, “and they’re still expecting two feet tonight.”

“Oh dear.” Evelyn’s brow creased and her mouth thinned as she turned to look out the window. The snow was falling steadily, coming down in small, persistent flakes, forming a fresh dusting on the white blanket that had accumulated overnight.

Holly felt a flicker of worry as she considered the encroaching storm and the effect it would have on her guests and the Christmas traditions she had put such effort into planning. She did her best to mask the concern and said with forced brightness, “I hope it won’t keep you from enjoying some of the activities we have scheduled for the day. Ice skating on the pond, the indoor campfire with s’mores and of course, your favorite—the morning sleigh ride.”

Evelyn managed a smile. “I do love a good sleigh ride.”

“Wonderful. Just gather in the lobby at nine and be sure to bundle up,” Holly said, but her guest had turned her attention away, her sky-blue eyes roaming to the right of Holly’s shoulder with sudden interest.

“My dear,” Evelyn said as she wrapped a hand around Holly’s wrist. “Who is that man?”

Holly glanced over her shoulder to see Max standing near the doorway studying the breakfast buffet. Her pulse quickened as her breath caught in her chest. Pull it together, Holly!

Turning back to Evelyn, she mustered a fragment of composure. “That’s one of our guests, Mrs. Adler.”

“I’ve never seen him before!” Evelyn murmured, her eyes fixed on her subject matter.

Holly suppressed her amusement when she noticed Nelson Adler shake his head slowly over his wife’s innocent enough behavior from his vantage point near the hearth. She said to Evelyn, “He just arrived last night.”

Evelyn’s eyes flashed with curiosity and she darted her gaze back to Holly. “Alone?”

Holly chuckled at the insinuation and, with the hand that wasn’t still in Evelyn’s determined grip, waved a playful finger at her beloved guest. “Now don’t you be getting any ideas into your head, Mrs. Adler.”

Evelyn’s sharp eyes glistened at the accusation. She opened them wide, innocently explaining, “I’m just saying that if he’s alone...and you’re alone...well, do the math, dear.”

Holly tossed her head back in laughter, noticing with a slight jolt that she had inadvertently caught the attention of Max himself. Lowering her voice, she decided to put a polite end to the topic. “Enjoy your breakfast, Mrs. Adler. And remember, nine o’clock in the lobby for the sleigh ride.”

Evelyn reluctantly moved aside, disappointment written all over her face as she pulled her attention away from Max. She glanced back hopefully a few more times as she returned to her table and her eternally patient husband who stared at her over the rim of his reading glasses, shaking his head once more in mock annoyance before burying his nose in the newspaper.

Left on her own again, Holly did her best to ignore the less than subtle gestures Evelyn was making from her corner, which included larger-than-life head nudging in Max’s direction and mouthing of the word “adorable” with increasing passion. As if I need to be told how gorgeous he is, Holly thought. It was only when Nelson gave his wife a sharp look over the top of his paper that Evelyn lowered her eyes and focused on eating her breakfast.

Drawing a deep breath for courage, Holly squared her shoulders and quickly plotted her next move before turning around and facing Max. She’d have to say hello to him; there was no room for being coy. He was her guest and she would have to treat him as such. He was no different than...well, than Evelyn Adler herself!

“Good morning,” Holly said, her voice softer than usual from the sudden tightening in her chest. She forced a shallow breath and smiled up at Max, her heart warming as the corners of his eyes crinkled into a smile.

“Good morning.” His voice was deep and smooth, and something in the low tone left her with a sense of suggested intimacy, as if Max felt they were in on some special secret together. Locking her gaze for enough time to make her heart sprint, he finally motioned to the buffet. “This is quite a spread.”

Holly exhaled a burst of pent-up air and with a humble shrug said, “Oh, it keeps the guests happy.”

“I can see why!” Max grinned, helping himself to a plate.

She gazed at the buffet, trying to see it through Max’s eyes. Platters of steaming cinnamon French toast, poached apples with vanilla syrup, fluffy scrambled eggs, sliced tomatoes, and crisp asparagus spears were lined side by side on the antique farmhouse table. At the end, tiered trays held fresh buttermilk scones and wild blueberry muffins, as well as several carafes of strong coffee.

“You have quite a talented chef,” Max said as he added a scone to his heaping plate.

“I actually do the breakfasts,” Holly muttered, averting her eyes and bracing herself for his reaction. She busied herself by straightening a set of napkins as the heat of Max’s stare burned her cheeks.

“You made all this?”

Holly shifted her gaze to his shocked face. He was looking at her as if she were half-crazy, as she knew he would. It must seem like a lot to take on—a whole lot—but Holly loved it and she would have it no other way.

“I’m an early riser,” she explained as the flush of heat crept around the back of her neck. Realizing her excuse was rather lame, she added, “And I like to cook. It’s the only time of day I can, since Stephen, our chef, takes over lunch and dinner service.”

Max’s aquamarine eyes sparked with interest. Speechless, he surveyed the buffet once more with an appraising raise of his brow. “Well, I’m impressed.”

Holly smiled to herself at the compliment. She’d been making breakfast for so long, she had stopped thinking of it as anything more than functional. It was an activity she intrinsically enjoyed, and with the number of guests at one time usually being not more than ten or sometimes twelve—and sometimes as few as four, but thankfully, never less than that—she had become a master of preparing meals for a crowd of this size. It was arranged nicely, she supposed, and one might go so far as to find it impressive.

Especially a bachelor, she couldn’t help but hope.

“Sit wherever you’d like,” Holly said. She glanced at a few tables by the window and caught a glimpse of Evelyn Adler watching the interaction with a tickled smile on her lips and a sheen to her eyes that was brighter than the flames in the fireplace. “Maybe this would be a nice spot,” she suggested, pointing to a table farther from Evelyn’s access.

Max pulled out a chair and sat down as Holly filled his mug with coffee. “If you’re around today, we have some festive activities planned,” she said.

Max tipped his head. “Festive activities?”

Holly felt her cheeks flush once more, but she bit back the wave of embarrassment she felt when she saw the twinkle in Max’s blue eyes. He was messing with her—looking for a reaction—just like the boys on the elementary school playground. Not that she wasn’t enjoying the game...too much.

“Everything’s detailed on the chalkboard in the lobby,” she said as she started to walk back to the kitchen to refill the carafe. Not quite ready to let him out of her sight just yet, she instinctively paused and tilted her head. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

Max grinned. “Maybe you will.”

* * *

What the hell was he doing? Max sampled a forkful of eggs and chewed thoughtfully. Maybe I’ll see you later. Maybe you will. What was he thinking, carrying on with Holly in this manner? It was completely inappropriate given the circumstances, and yet...he seemed incapable of restraining himself.

Max ripped off a chunk of scone and crammed it into his mouth hungrily. He sighed in defeat. Delicious. Of course. He took another greedy bite and washed it down with a swig of coffee so smooth and strong he was already hoping for a refill. He wanted to hate this place, and he was finding it downright impossible. From the goose down comforter to the Egyptian cotton sheets to the scented soaps to the gourmet food to the gorgeous proprietor...there was nothing to dislike about The White Barn Inn.

And that was just a shame.

Max swallowed another bite of his scone and sipped at his coffee. Allowing his scope to widen, he scanned the room, noticing an older woman near the window smiling at him. Unsure of what to do, he gave a tentative smile in return and to his surprise, the woman winked and gave a little flutter with her fingers.

Max fought back a smile as he tucked back into his scrambled eggs. Avoiding the gaze of the silver-haired woman in the corner, he focused on the other guests, feeling oddly cheered by the soft tinkle of Christmas music that lent a subtle backdrop to the buzz of the dining room.

What had gotten into him? He loathed Christmas. He couldn’t stand those twinkling lights or the smell of pine. And yet here he was feeling downright merry.

Something was very wrong here.

He was out of his element and he wasn’t thinking clearly, it was as simple as that. He hadn’t had a vacation in too long. He was getting swept away. Yes, that was it. It had to be. But he had a job to do, a purpose for being here, and he needed to focus. He wasn’t here to flirt with the locals or get caught up in...festive activities. The sooner he got out of this town and back to his regular life in New York, the better he’d feel.

But even as he processed this reassuring thought, his stomach rolled with uneasiness. He was struggling to convince himself. And that was a problem. A big one.

As he ate, he scanned the business section of the local newspaper. It was a far cry from the national news he was used to reading—the biggest story, it seemed, was the rebuilding of the town’s library, which had apparently been damaged in a fire several months ago. Max leaned into the paper and squinted with concentration as he reread the article more carefully for a second time, his pulse quickening as he realized the importance of the story and the implications it could have on his purpose in Maple Woods.

It was just the leverage he needed.

Sensing that Holly wasn’t going to be emerging from the kitchen any time soon—and that it was probably for the best that she didn’t—Max folded the paper under his arm and wandered through the lobby, up the stairs and back to his suite. It was early, but he wasn’t one to sit around waiting. He’d go into town, feel out the locals, and then make his pitch to the mayor.

But even with his new information, something told him this wasn’t going to be as easy as he had previously thought. And Holly was only part of the problem. There were several moving parts that needed to fall into place, and if one of the necessary parties couldn’t be swayed—or bought—then the plans for the shopping center would collapse. A year’s work down the drain. They’d be back at square one, trolling Connecticut and Massachusetts for a new plot of land for the project and Max already knew from his own research that no other location would do. The few other options he had considered were too small, too far from major highways, or too close to other competing shopping malls. The land that housed The White Barn Inn wasn’t just ideal, it was really the only choice. Anything else would be a far second—the profit wouldn’t be the same. The chance of securing tenants would be too risky. The sales projections were too shaky. It would cost them...too much to even think about. It was Maple Woods or nothing. He had to make it happen.

Shaking off his own misgivings, Max changed into a suit and tie, grabbed his blueprints and thick folder stuffed with financial papers and locked the suite door behind him. Back downstairs, he crossed to the front door and yanked it open. A strong, arctic wind slapped him in the face and he reflexively recoiled and pulled his collar up around his neck.

Only two hours north of Manhattan and he was pathetically ill-prepared. He made a mental note to buy a scarf when he got into town. And some gloves.

“The drive’s not clear yet,” a familiar voice behind him said. Max turned to face Holly standing in the open doorway, shivering at the cold.

His brow furrowed. “Oh.”

“Hank just got in,” she explained. “He’s going to plow it now.”

Max closed the door. So much for his plans. “How long will it take?”

Holly’s hazel eyes flickered in surprise. “Eager to get away, are you?”

Realizing he’d spoken too sharply, Max offered a smile. “Sorry, I just had some business to take care of in town.”

Holly narrowed her stare suspiciously. “We’ll have you in town shortly. Doubt anyone’s there yet at this hour anyway. Things move a little slower in Maple Woods than they do in the big city.”

Max glanced at his watch. She had a point.

“It will probably take about half an hour to clear the drive, so if you want to go sit by the fire, I can have someone bring you a cup of cocoa.”

Admitting defeat, Max realized it was hardly a compromise to relax for a bit in the warmth of the inn. A fresh waft of cinnamon filled his senses, bringing a resigned grin to his face. “How about another cup of that coffee instead?”

“Cream?”

“And sugar.”

Holly smiled and patted his arm in a reassuring manner. Feeling instantly foolish, Max stomped the snow off his loafers—boots were another purchase he’d need to make—and shrugged out of his coat. Sitting in one of the leather club chairs by the fire, he pulled out some financial projections and studied them.

“You weren’t lying when you said you were here on business,” Holly observed a few minutes later as she placed a steaming mug of coffee on an end table.

“Bad habit,” Max shrugged, quickly closing the folder. “I’ve got a lot going on back at the office. And I’ve never been good at sitting around and waiting.”

“Or relaxing?” Holly arched an eyebrow.

Max held up his hands and grinned. “I stand accused. Guilty as charged.”

Holly tipped her head thoughtfully. “Christmas is only five days away. I would think business would be slowing down.”

“Business never slows down. Not for me at least.” He stirred the cream in his coffee and noticed the steady stream of guests filing into the lobby. “But then, I guess the same goes for you.”

Holly smiled as she turned toward the gathering crowd. With a shrug, she said, “Yep. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Max dragged in a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. If she kept talking like this, she was going to make things a lot more difficult than he preferred.

He watched Holly retreat to the end of the lobby and fall easily into conversation with a middle-aged couple. She looked nothing short of gorgeous this morning, with her chestnut hair cascading over that creamy sweater that—even from this distance—looked so soft it was practically begging to be touched. Surely a woman as beautiful and sweet as Holly couldn’t be without a handful of men lining up and hoping for a date. She’d talked unabashedly about the inn all through their conversation the night before, but she hadn’t mentioned if there was someone special in her life. It didn’t appear there was, but Max intended to find out just to be sure.

Holly was exactly the kind of woman he imagined himself marrying—if he ever intended to get married, that is. And he didn’t. Marriage didn’t work—he’d lived long and hard enough to know that—even if he wished it did. The older he grew, the more he found himself wondering if maybe...but he always came to the same conclusion: nope, not for him. Some memories were too deep. Some facts were just facts.

So no, he didn’t have any intention of settling down with Holly, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from getting to know her a little better. And besides, if he managed to win her over, maybe Holly wouldn’t think twice about giving up this place and moving to the city herself.

* * *

“Drat!”

She’d done it again. Holly grabbed an oven mitt and threw all her upper-body strength into moving the enormous stainless-steel pot of hot chocolate to the back burner just before it boiled over. Flicking off the gas to the stove, she grabbed a ladle from the ceramic pitcher on the counter and began filling a dozen red thermoses with the bubbling concoction. She’d managed to save it just in time, and the aroma of freshly melted dark chocolate mixed with heavy cream was heaven for her senses. She—and more often Stephen—made this treat in batches during the fall and winter seasons, but despite years of practice, she almost always got so busy talking to a guest that the simmering pot would slip her mind. Today that guest had been none other than Max Hamilton. Of course.

Pulling a jar of homemade powdered-sugar-coated marshmallows from a shelf, Holly dared to steal a glance out the window above the sink. The snow was still falling steadily, but it was the threat of more that worried her. She’d overheard more than one guest grumble about the impending storm and the road conditions, and two others who were scheduled to arrive today had cancelled their reservations. With all the energy she’d poured into the holiday week’s events, it would be a shame to see none of it come to fruition.

Her heart ached a little when she considered her real concern. She couldn’t bear the thought of being alone at Christmas.

“Hello, hello!” Abby burst into the kitchen, all rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed. Snowflakes still spattered her eyelashes and she blinked rapidly to melt them.

“Hey there!” Holly brightened at the sight of her friend, comforted with the knowledge that she could at least spend the holiday with Abby and her husband Pete. She was their token charity case, she liked to joke. But the joke was becoming old. And she herself was becoming tired. Tired of being alone in this world. Tired of watching life pass her by. All she wanted was a family of her own. Was it really too much to ask?

Hard work usually eased the pain and kept her from thinking of how different life could have been and should have been, but Christmas brought a fresh reminder. It was her favorite time of the year, but it would be even more magical if she had someone special to share it with her.

“Um, Holly?”

Holly finished placing a marshmallow in each thermos and found Abby leaning against the counter and staring at her expectantly. “Yes?”

“Who is that guy?” Abby practically hissed the last word of her question, and the gleam in her eyes said everything.

“He’s our VIP.”

“Green Room?”

“Yep.” Holly heaved a sigh. It seemed everyone was as smitten with Max as she was. Chances were there were many more women back in New York with the same intentions.

“What do you know about him?” Abby reached for a lid and screwed it on top of a thermos.

“Thanks...I don’t know much about him actually. But we did—we did have a nice chat last night. He’s very nice.”

“Holly!” Abby squealed and did a little dance on the floorboards. “How long were you planning on keeping this from me?”

“It’s nothing,” Holly said, instantly regretting she had said anything at all. She was building this up to be more than it was. Max was her guest. And he would be leaving tomorrow. If not sooner, she thought, turning to the window with a sinking sensation. “He’s nice. That’s all.”

“No, that is not all!” Abby insisted. “And besides, a man like that is not nice. Nice is not an appropriate adjective at all.”

Holly snorted. “No? Do you have a better term then?”

“Dashing. Dapper. Completely irresistible.”

Holly smothered a laugh and shook her head. “Come on,” she said, picking up the rattan basket now loaded with the thermoses. “We’ve got a group eagerly waiting for a sleigh ride and we don’t want the hot chocolate getting cold before we’re even outside.”

Holly pushed through the kitchen door with Abby in tow, crossed through the dining room and ventured into the lobby, where nearly every guest was now gathered in their winter best around the roaring fire, awaiting the morning’s activity. Evelyn Adler had bundled herself into a royal-blue coat with a black fur collar and matching hat. Ever the lady of the house, Holly noted with a smile.

She set the basket on a table near the front door and peered out the window for a sign of the stable manager, Rob, and the horse-drawn sleigh. She searched farther out to the white barn at the north end of the estate, finally capturing some movement.

“Are you going on the sleigh ride?” Evelyn had come to stand near Holly.

Holly’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Oh, I’d love to, but I should really stay behind and take care of things.”

Evelyn cocked her head in Max’s direction. “Even if he goes?”

Holly’s chest tightened. “I don’t think he’s able to go, Mrs. Adler, and even if—”

But it was too late. Evelyn had gotten an idea into her head and she wasn’t about to let it go. Crossing the room to where Max sat sipping his coffee, Evelyn perched herself on the edge of a footstool and removed her fur hat. She patted her silvering hair, pulled neatly into a low bun, and smiled almost...girlishly.

Holly’s eyes darted to Mr. Adler, who was watching his wife from a few feet away with a bemused expression. Holly dared to near Max’s chair, half dreading what she braced herself to hear.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Evelyn thrust a small-boned hand at Max. “Evelyn Adler. This is my husband, Nelson.”

“Max Hamilton. A pleasure, Mrs. Adler.” He turned to the older man and nodded. “Mr. Adler.”

“Oh, call me Evelyn. Please,” Evelyn practically cooed.

Holly felt her brow pinch. In all the years she had known Evelyn, she had never been granted the same courtesy.

“Evelyn,” Max repeated, his tone laced with amusement.

“Is this your first time at the inn?” Evelyn inquired.

“Indeed it is.”

Holly’s heart warmed at Max’s patience with Evelyn, but she still didn’t trust her most loyal guest from taking liberties. Evelyn had made herself very comfortable at The White Barn Inn over the years and, aside from a few formalities she adhered strictly to, she had taken a shining to Holly’s personal life over time. Too much so.

“Mrs. Ad—” she attempted as a polite interruption but Evelyn waved her hand dismissively and refused to so much as spare a glance in Holly’s direction. Frustrated, Holly began neatly stacking a pile of magazines, making sure she was just within earshot. Evelyn wasn’t going to let up, and Holly couldn’t resist gleaning as much insight into Max as possible.

“So you’re here alone, then,” Evelyn was saying now, an edge of mock disappointment in her voice. “Well, a young man as handsome as yourself must have someone special waiting back home!”

Holly cringed but held her breath, hoping to hear Max’s reply above the din of the other guests in the lobby.

“Not really,” Max said smoothly, and Holly felt a wave of fresh excitement wash over her. She tried to push it aside as quickly as it enveloped her. She failed miserably.

“What a pity!” Evelyn slid her blue eyes over to Holly and gave a pointed stare.

Holly clenched her teeth and wondered if Max was obtuse enough not to see through this meddling. She doubted it. Frantically searching for an excuse to pull Evelyn’s attention away from Max, she bolted upright at the jungle of sleigh bells on the drive. “Sleigh’s here!”

Evelyn’s interest, however, did not waver. “Will you be joining us for the sleigh ride? My husband and I look forward to it every year. So...romantic.”

Okay, this had gone far enough! Feeling out the situation was one thing. Pushing it was another. “Max,” Holly said. “I think that Hank is almost finished plowing the drive. I know you were anxious to get to town.”

“Oh, but he might want to go on the sleigh ride, Miss Tate!”

“Miss Tate?” Max flashed Holly a wicked grin.

Bristling, Evelyn remarked, “Of course. What do you call her?”

“Holly.”

Evelyn’s eyes snapped open. “Oh, I see,” she said meaningfully, giving Holly a knowing look.

Holly bit back the urge to raise her eyes skyward. If she didn’t love Evelyn so much she would throttle her!

“Unfortunately, I won’t be able to join you for the sleigh ride today, Evelyn.” Max set his coffee mug back on the end table. “I’m afraid I have some business in town to attend to this morning.”

Evelyn deflated into her wool coat and pursed her lips. “Pity.”

“Come along, Evelyn.” Nelson reined in his wife by physically grabbing her at the elbow and then, more tenderly, placing her little hat back on her head. The pair scuttled toward the door to collect their thermoses and then laced fingers as they waited for the sleigh ride to board. Holly felt a sharp pang slice through her chest. She turned to see Max staring at her.

“Sorry about that,” Holly said.

Max shook his head. “They’re sweet.”

“They are. And very loyal, too. In many ways, Evelyn reminds me of my own grandmother.” Holly’s mind flitted to her childhood memories in this very home. Those were happy times.

“Evelyn?” Max arched a dark eyebrow and his blue eyes gleamed. “You mean Mrs. Adler, right?”

Holly gave him a rueful smile. “You sure you don’t want to go on the sleigh ride?”

“Nah, I should get into town.”

Holly nodded, hoping she masked the disappointment she felt.

Max pushed himself from the chair and buttoned his coat. Holly winced at how inappropriately he was dressed.

“Main Street is just a few miles west, correct?”

“Correct.” Noticing the silk tie peeking out from under his dress coat, Holly again pondered the reason for his visit. There was little business in the corporate sense on Main Street. With the exception of a bank, attorney’s office and local doctor, only shops and a few dining options lined that stretch. Unless he was here to do something about the library... Now, that was an idea.

“Lunch is at noon?”

“Yes,” Holly affirmed. She had the growing sense that he was lingering. Not that she minded, obviously. Max hadn’t even left yet and already she was missing him. He was a sight she could get used to around this old house. Easily.

“I’ll be back by noon, then,” Max said, his eyes still locked with hers.

Breaking free from his hold on her, Holly reached for his empty mug. “Drive safe. It’s slick out there.”

“See you later,” Max said. A devilish grin curled his lips when he added, “Miss Tate.”


Chapter Three

The long drive to the main road was cleared, but the three-mile drive to the center of town was not. Max squinted through the snow, which was gaining momentum, the wipers doing little to keep the powder from accumulating on the windshield. Maneuvering his rented SUV through the snow banks, Max discovered he had a newfound reason for preferring city life.

It was a welcome reminder. He was becoming too relaxed in Maple Woods. He belonged in the big city; he knew it. He just needed to remember it.

Turning onto Main Street, Max clenched his jaw at the sight. Pine garlands wrapped around every lamppost, sealed with joyful crimson bows. Wreaths hung on the door of every shop. Pristine white snow covered every rooftop. Everything was almost eerily calming and peaceful.

It was like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. But he would not allow himself to be seduced by its charm.

Pulling to a stop at the address he had jotted down, Max stepped out of the vehicle and paid the meter for the maximum time. He hoped it wouldn’t take more than half an hour to convince the mayor of his plan, but if it took all day, so be it. He had no intention of leaving town without that land.

Business was in trouble and it had been for some time. People weren’t shopping in malls anymore. They preferred the convenience of online shopping, the gratification of making a purchase in their pajamas at midnight, the thrill of receiving a package with their name on it in the mail five days later. Of Hamilton Properties’ existing portfolio, half the centers were struggling. Development initiatives had been placed on hold for two years, but too much man power, time and energy had gone into this project. And big-name retailers were depending on him to get the job done. If he didn’t, more than one department store was already threatening to pull out of under-performing centers. Without those anchors, the struggling malls would collapse.

Hamilton Properties had seen three of their competitors file bankruptcy. Only one other remained in business, and they’d already made more than one offer to buy out Hamilton’s portfolio. But Max wasn’t going down without a fight. He had built this company from the ground up, founding it when he was only twenty-two. It had been a roller-coaster of ups and downs over the years, and lately it had been mostly downhill, but he wasn’t ready for the ride to be over. Not yet.

“Max Hamilton to see Mayor Pearson,” he said confidently to the friendly woman behind the reception desk.

“Just have a seat, he’ll be out shortly. Last-minute phone call and all that.” The woman smiled at him as her eyes roamed over his chest, narrowing on his tie. “Not from around these parts, are you?”

Max spared a wry grin. “That obvious?”

“Most folks in Maple Woods don’t wear suits and ties. Especially on days like this,” she said. Her smile brightened to reveal a dimple when she admitted, “But I like a man in a suit. Always did.”

Max nodded and rocked back on his heels, his eyes taking in the miniature Christmas tree on the woman’s desk. She’d even hung tiny metallic ornaments on its small, plastic branches. Her sweater had a snowman knitted into it with some sort of textured yarn. Christmas carols bleated softly from the radio on the corner of her desk and at least fifty holiday cards were propped on every filing cabinet, desk, or other surface.

Seems Holly isn’t the only one who loves Christmas, he mused.

Max raked his fingers through his hair and stepped away from the desk. It was definitely time to get back to New York.

A set of leather chairs was lined against the wall. Max sat down on the farthest and pulled a magazine from a pile on the coffee table. Absentmindedly flicking through it, his gaze shifted back to the woman at the desk, who was now humming along to some holiday tune, munching on a Christmas cookie and casually directing the computer mouse with her free hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed when she felt his stare. She brushed the crumbs from her mouth guiltily. “Did you want a cookie?”

Max held up a hand and gave a tight smile. “No. Thank you.”

The woman frowned. “You sure? They’re good. Promise. I made them myself.”

Max glanced to the mayor’s door. “I shouldn’t, but thanks again.”

He returned his focus to the magazine, feeling anxious and out of place. He shouldn’t have worn the suit. It might turn the mayor off; might make him think Max was strolling into town looking to tear things down and take over. It wasn’t his intention at all. But it might just look that way.

Max looked back to the receptionist, who was now plucking another cookie from her tin. “Can I ask you a question?”

The woman looked up and beamed, flattered to be asked for an opinion. “Certainly!” she exclaimed, opening her eyes wide.

“Think I should lose the tie?” Max grinned.

The woman’s lips pursed in pleasure. “Definitely.”

* * *

The mayor’s office was decoration-free, making it easy for Max to get down to business. He sat down in the seat offered to him and accepted a cup of coffee. Mayor Pearson was an amiable sort with a warm laugh and strong handshake, and Max was immediately put at ease. So long as he didn’t come across as some corporate bigwig in from the city looking to stir up trouble, he should be able to have a reasonable conversation with the mayor over what would best serve the town of Maple Woods.

And he knew in his heart that an upscale shopping center on the outskirts of town—on the land that currently housed The White Barn Inn—would be a win-win for everyone.

Everyone except for Holly, that is he thought with a frown.

“It’s a stunning rendering,” Mayor Pearson said, leaning over the desk to take a closer look at the blueprints. “It doesn’t look like the shopping malls I’m used to frequenting.”

“We try and design our centers with their location in mind,” Max explained. “It’s important that the mall have the architectural integrity of the town so that it just sort of...melts in with its surroundings.”

The mayor gave the drawing silent consideration before releasing a long, heavy sigh. Relaxing into a high-backed swivel chair behind his desk, he said, “I’ll admit that I’m intrigued. That being said, I can’t be sure what the planning board will say, and they would ultimately make the decision.”

Max nodded. “I understand there are lots of moving parts here, Mayor.”

“Of course, there’s George Miller to consider. His family has owned that land for longer than I can remember. If he’s not willing to sell, my opinion doesn’t even matter.”

Oh, he’ll sell, Max thought. To the mayor he said, “I plan to speak with him as soon as possible. I wanted to give you the courtesy first.”

“I appreciate that,” the older man said. “And I’d also appreciate if you kept your business here quiet unless things move forward. Maple Woods is a small town, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, and people around here don’t like change very much.”

“I’ll be discreet,” Max promised.

Mayor Pearson tented his fingers. “The financials you have here are very solid and I’m sure you’re aware that we lack proper funding needed to re-open the town library, which unfortunately had to be closed until we can repair the structural damage that occurred in a recent fire. The library means a lot to this town—it isn’t just a library. It also serves as our community center.”

“I heard something about it, yes.” The article mentioned that an entire wing had been nearly destroyed—Max understood firsthand the resources an undertaking like that would involve.

“People don’t understand why we can’t start rebuilding the portion of the building that was damaged and reopen the place. Or why we haven’t already done so. It’s just not as simple as that.” The mayor paused. “As you can imagine, this doesn’t bode well for me. Or a re-election.”

Max tipped his head with renewed interest. “That’s a tough position.”

“Very tough. The thing I’ve learned about being in office is that you can’t please everybody. And believe me, if we bring in engineers and construction crews to rebuild that library, someone would be in an uproar that we didn’t use the money to build a new wing onto the school.”

Max chuckled. “I can assure you that the taxes you would garner from the center would change things for this town.”

“Oh, I know it would change things, and that’s why I agreed to meet with you. If I might have a day or two to look over these papers, it would help me in making an argument to the planning committee. But I don’t plan on saying a word to them unless George Miller agrees to this. I’m already on the hot seat over this library fiasco.”

“I’m not sure you’re aware of the urgency of the matter. It appears that George Miller plans to transfer the deed of the land to The White Barn Inn as of Christmas day,” Max said.

Mayor Pearson widened his eyes. “Ah.”

“I could be wrong but I have to assume that the owner of the inn—Holly Tate—might be less than inclined to sell. So you see, I would prefer to get this wrapped up before Christmas. If possible.”

“You do realize that Christmas is five days away?”

Max grimaced. “I’m fully aware. I hadn’t realized I would be faced with this situation. I would have acted sooner if I had known.”

The mayor lowered his brows. “Do you always do business the Friday before Christmas?”

Max decided not to give the answer to that question. He skirted it by saying, “It’s not Christmas yet. It seemed as good a time as any.”

“Guess that’s why you make the big bucks.” Mayor Pearson peered at Max, and for a split second, Max swallowed hard, nervously hooking one leg over the other. His mind drifted to Holly, to the image of her cheerfully bustling about the dining room in that soft creamy sweater and slim charcoal skirt that hugged her curves in all the right places. His stomach rolled a bit with unease.

Finally, the mayor spoke. “A retail establishment of this size will bring revenue to the town. However, it will also change the dynamic. My parting words to you are these. Tread lightly.”

Max gritted his teeth and nodded in understanding. Following the mayor’s lead, he stood and accepted his firm grip. The meeting was over.

“Let me know when you’ve talked to George Miller,” the mayor said. “Then we’ll have a better chat. Right now, my hands are tied. I’m of no use to you yet.”

Max nodded once more and turned to the door with the sinking sensation that very little had transpired in the meeting at all. He had the mayor’s approval, but it wasn’t his decision to make. Max would have to convince George Miller first. And then the planning committee. And if George didn’t agree...he’d have to sway Holly.

He couldn’t even think about that right now.

“Oh, and one last thing,” the mayor said as Max turned the door handle.

Max turned and his pulse skipped. “Yes?”

Mayor Pearson smiled. “Merry Christmas!”

* * *

The shops along Main Street had already opened by the time Max marched out of the mayor’s building. Pairs of locals scurried along the shoveled sidewalks, ducking in and out of stores, stocking up on supplies before the storm and scrambling with last-minute Christmas shopping.

Max stopped and glanced at a few window displays, all of which were targeted for the holiday, of course. Santa’s village in the stationery store. Elves in the children’s boutique. If plans for the mall went through, independent shops along this stretch would probably struggle to survive. None of these stores would be able to compete with national retailers, or their competitive prices.

Max sighed, releasing a long ribbon of steam, and paused in front of a store window, noticing that even the bookstore boasted jolly, fuzzy snowmen in its display case.

There was no escaping it. Maple Woods was a town consumed with Christmas.

At least in New York, he could hunker down at the office or his apartment and forget about the festive activities going on around him.

Max felt his mouth slide into a smile in spite of himself. He’d dated many women in New York over the years, but he’d never encountered a girl like Holly before, and certainly none with her zest for the holidays. Although, in fairness, he’d never really dated a woman long enough to be with someone for Christmas.

Max put his blueprints in the trunk of his car and, after checking the meter and realizing that he had used very little of the time he had paid for, he strolled down the sidewalk in search of some basic necessities.

A jungle of bells chimed when he pushed through the doors to a sporting goods store. He selected some thick wool socks, a scarf, hat and a pair of heavy-duty boots. If today’s meeting was any indication of things to come, he wouldn’t be leaving Maple Woods anytime soon, and he might as well make himself comfortable for the duration of his stay. He’d assumed he could come into town, meet with the mayor and spend the rest of the day getting a feel for the town before heading out the next morning. Unforeseen complications were never welcome when it came to business. Throw Holly into the mix, and Max had the unsettling sensation that personal complications were equally threatening.

From a neatly folded pile on a display table, he selected three thick sweaters and a pair of corduroy pants and, after a brief hesitation and the memory of that cold, icy wind slicing through his overcoat, he grabbed a down parka from a nearby rack.

“Do you know where I can get a cup of coffee around here?” he asked the clerk as he handed over his credit card.

The kid arched an eyebrow and studied him. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Max shrugged. “Know a good place?”

“There’s not much to do in Maple Woods,” the kid elaborated, and Max detected a hint of resentment in his tone. Teenagers. “You’ve got your bar. You’ve got your pizza parlor. And you’ve got your diner.”

“Just a cup of a coffee will do,” Max said patiently.

“Try Lucy’s Place.”

Max felt a wave of exasperation take hold. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know Lucy.”

“Lucy’s Place. It’s the name of the diner.” The kid shook his head and hissed out of a breath. “You really aren’t from around here.”

Max inhaled sharply, but something inside him resonated with this surly kid. He was once like that. Small-town boy with big-city dreams. Desperate to break free and never look back. “Where can I find this Lucy’s Place?”

The kid tilted his chin toward the window. “Just across the street.”

“Thanks.” Max reached for his bag and tucked his wallet back into his pocket.

“Tell Lucy that Bobby Miller sent you,” the kid said, managing a tight smile. “She’ll take care of you.”

Max squinted as sudden realization took hold. Miller. As in George Miller? After a slight hesitation, he nodded his thanks and jogged across the street to the diner as a blast of wind slapped his face, wishing he’d had the sense to have already put on that parka.

* * *

Holly’s heart flipped at the sight of Max walking into the diner and she paused mid-sentence in surprise. His broad shoulders filled that ridiculous overcoat perfectly, leaving her wishing she could see the fine details of what lay beneath. He stood in the doorway, all at once looking devilishly handsome and slightly bewildered.

Watching her reaction, Lucy Miller whispered over the Formica counter, “Who’s that?”

Holly slid her eyes back to her friend. “He’s a guest at the inn.”

Lucy lifted her head and murmured, “Looks like you’ve made quite an impression on him.”

Holly followed Lucy’s gaze back to the front of the room, where Max caught her stare and lit up with an almost relieved smile. He held his hand up and began winding his way through the crowded tables to where Holly was perched at the counter, his athletic frame allowing him to do so with ease.

“Hey,” he said, flopping companionably onto the stool beside her.

“Hi,” Holly said cautiously, feeling a shiver of excitement at his proximity. “This is a surprise.”

“Thought I’d get a quick cup of coffee and check out the town before I went back to the inn.”

Lucy took her cue and pulled a ceramic mug off a shelf. She slid it toward Max and gave Holly a fleeting look. Holly pursed her lips and shifted her focus back to Max. “When is your, um, business meeting?”

“Already happened,” Max said simply and Holly’s heart turned heavy. The meeting was over. His purpose in Maple Woods was finished. He’d be leaving just as quickly as he’d arrived.

He was only booked for two nights but somehow Holly had hoped something would keep him longer. It was a silly thought, she realized now. He had a life to get back to in New York. A life that didn’t include her.

She forced a bright smile. “Did it go well?”

Max pulled a noncommittal face. He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Holly narrowed her eyes and looked down to her own coffee cup, not sure what to say next. Max liked his privacy, and she wasn’t one to pry. If he wanted to share his reasons for being here, he would. But his evasiveness was unnerving and unfamiliar. Maple Woods wasn’t a town based on secrets. If you had one, it was bound to come out sooner than later.

Max was a fresh reminder of what her life had been like back in Boston, and she suddenly realized how much she had changed since she’d moved away. And how little she missed her old life. After her parents died, the city had felt vast and empty. Cold. It wasn’t until she moved permanently to Maple Woods that she remembered what it felt like to be surrounded by friends and people who genuinely cared enough to let you in, not keep you at arm’s reach.

“I thought you’d be busy at the inn all day,” Max observed.

“Believe it or not, I do get out,” Holly said with a grin. “Abby helps hold down the fort.”

“And Abby is?”

“Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t have met her yet. She helps run things. Sort of a manager or housekeeper, if you will. But she’s also a friend.”

Max nodded, his blue gaze locked intensely with hers as if hanging onto her every word. It had been a long time since a man had paid this much attention to her, and Holly felt her nerves flutter under his gaze. Every time their eyes met, her stomach did involuntary somersaults.

The last man who had looked at her with this much interest was Brendan, her last boyfriend in Boston. And look how that had ended, she thought bitterly. But something told her Max was different.

Not that it matters, she thought sadly.

“Here are your pies, hon.” Lucy placed a stack of white pie boxes in front of Holly.

Holly lifted the lid of the box on top and stole a peek at the contents. “Oh,” she cried. “Apple-cranberry. My favorite.”

“That’s for the guests,” Lucy remarked with a playful smile. She glanced at Max. “You like pie?”

Max shrugged. “I liked the pie I had last night.”

“That was Lucy’s creation,” Holly explained. “She bakes all the pies for the inn. I drop by every morning to pick them up.”

“This one keeps me in business,” Lucy said.

“I find that hard to believe,” Max said, an edge creeping into his once-pleasant tone. He looked around the crowded room. “This place seems to be doing pretty well on its own.”

“Eh. At times. But you’d be amazed how many regulars come in, spend a buck-fifty on a cup of coffee and sip refills for two hours. Like Mr. Hawkins over there.” She gave a pointed stare to the end of the counter where an older man sat sipping at his mug, the newspaper splayed in front of him. The poor man had been a fixture at the diner ever since his wife had died more than ten years ago. Holly couldn’t remember a day she hadn’t come in to collect her pies and had not seen him sitting in that very seat. He clearly couldn’t bear the thought of being alone.

Makes two of us.

Max raised his eyebrows as he considered Lucy’s logic. “Never thought about that. And on that note, I’ll take a slice of pie.”

A warm glow flowed through Holly at his kind effort. Why couldn’t she have met a guy like Max in Maple Woods?

But then, that was the drawback to living in a small town. She couldn’t find the right one in Boston. And now she couldn’t find the right one here, either. Max seemed like everything she was looking for and more. But of course, he came with a hitch. He was just passing through her life. He wasn’t a permanent part of it.

“What’s your poison, stranger?” Lucy asked. She pointed to the blackboard on the wall. “We’ve got pumpkin, apple and pear.”

“If apple-cranberry is Holly’s favorite flavor, then I think I’ll take her up on the recommendation.”

Holly bit her lip to hide her smile and locked eyes with Lucy, who had approval stamped all over her face.

“Good answer,” Lucy observed. She pulled a fresh pie off a baking rack and cut into it.

“Looks like we’ll need a fresh one for the evening crowd,” Emily Porter said, coming around the counter. Holly smiled at her friend, who was another familiar face at Lucy’s Place.

“I’ll get started on that after things quiet down.” Emily paused, noticing Max for the first time, and then slid her eyes to Holly, barely suppressing her interest, before she disappeared into the kitchen.

“I worked in a restaurant in college,” Max volunteered.

Holly perked up with interest. “So did I! I waited tables.”

“You never told me about this,” Lucy said, a sly smile creeping at her lips. “How long were you a waitress for?”

“Five hours,” Holly admitted. It was such a short but horrifying memory that she often forgot she had ever endured it.

“Five hours?” Max guffawed, his bright blue eyes gleaming with amusement. He stared at her, enraptured, and Holly felt the room tilt.

He was just...perfect.

Holly shook her head and closed her eyes, just thinking of her stint as a waitress. “It was awful. I was in college and I needed a part-time job, so I applied to work at this little café. I showed up to work on the first morning and they spent ten minutes showing me how to work the espresso machine—nothing I tried helped me to succeed in foaming that milk.”

Lucy nodded. “It’s tricky.”

“So they—wait, they fired you for not being able to foam milk?” Max’s lips twitched in amusement.

“No, it went beyond the milk,” Holly said. “They were short-staffed that day and my boss wanted to go golfing. He spent another ten minutes teaching me how to use the cash register—”

“Let me guess?” Max’s eyes danced.

Holly gave him a playful swat, wondering for a split second if she had gone too far, but he swatted her right back. Her heart did a little jig. “So I couldn’t foam the milk and I could barely use the cash register. I was the only person working aside from the cook and I had to seat people, take their orders, foam the milk, bring the food, take care of the bill, and bus the tables. It was awful. Well, I was awful. So awful, that one customer left me two nickels for a tip.”

Max’s hand was covering his ear-to-ear grin and his eyes were now wide as saucers. A heavy silence was interrupted by a sputtering of laughter and then Max tossed his head back, roaring. Lucy simply shook her head in dismay.

“Two nickels?” Max repeated, when his laughter had died down.

Holly nodded solemnly at the memory. She had never been so mortified. Never felt so ashamed. But looking back, she had to agree it was rather funny.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. But—two nickels?” Max erupted into another wave of laughter and finally composed himself, wiping at his eyes. “And here I was, just beginning to think you were perfect. Now I know you have a fatal flaw. You are a terrible waitress.”

Holly’s cheeks flushed deep and hot but her pulse kicked up a notch. He thought she was perfect. And here she thought it was the other way around.

“I bet you were a good waiter,” Lucy said to Max.

Max shrugged and gave a humble grin. “I was better than Holly.”

“Hey!” But she wasn’t mad. How could she be? He was teasing her, and there was only one reason why boys teased.

“I’m just being honest.” His eyes gleamed in merriment. “I mean, you were able to buy some penny candy with your tips and I was able to, well...pay rent.”

Holly laughed but silently considered his words. Max seemed like the type of guy who came from money. Not one who had to earn it. But then, there was a lot about Max she didn’t know.

Yet.

“Restaurant work is hard work. There’s a lot most folks don’t think about until they’re in the business,” Lucy commented. She handed Max his slice of pie and placed a fork on a fresh napkin. “It’s grueling at times. For everyone. Not that I’m complaining. I love this place—don’t get me wrong—but it’s hard work. And having a little extra cash, especially around the holidays, helps.”

Max’s mouth thinned. “I’m Max, by the way.”

“Lucy. Lucy Miller.”

Holly felt Max stiffen in his chair. She scrutinized him sidelong, questioning the reaction.

“I think I might have just met your son—Bobby, is it? Over at the sporting goods shop?”

Lucy chuckled. “So, you’ve had the pleasure, then? Yes, he’s my son.”

“Excuse me for asking, but why doesn’t he work at the diner instead of the store across the street?”

“He’s too cool for it.” Lucy pursed her lips. “He used to help out here, but then his buddy got him that job at the sports place. It’s a chance for them to hang out and earn some money at the same time. I can’t complain since it keeps him out of trouble, but it would be nice to have the family help at the diner. Instead we’re paying another classmate of his to help out on weekends.”

Holly shook her head and heaved a sigh. Lucy often confided in her about her aggravation with her son’s behavior. Bobby wasn’t a bad kid. He was just a kid with dreams that extended beyond Maple Woods. “Kids these days.”

Lucy tightened the apron strings at her waist. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll grow up one day and take over this place. Hope springs.”

Lucy left them to tend to another customer and Holly turned to Max. She patted the pie boxes gingerly, so as to not crush the delicate contents. “I should probably get going.”

A wave of possible disappointment shadowed Max’s chiseled face and Holly instantly regretted her words. It wouldn’t kill her to stick around for a little longer. But then, why bother getting cozier with Max when he was just going to vanish from her life tomorrow?

“You’re really going to leave me sitting here all by myself? Why not stay and have another cup of coffee with me? ”

She hesitated. “I should probably get back and see if Abby needs any help...”

“Fine, fine, go. But on one condition,” Max insisted.

Holly’s pulse skipped a beat. She carefully wrapped her scarf around her neck and gathered her stack of pie boxes. “What’s that?”

“Give me a rain check?” He regarded her hopefully.

Like she’d even consider saying no.


Chapter Four

After returning to the inn, Holly continued with her normal routine, helping where needed with the lunch service and overseeing any other guest requests. She spotted Max at lunch, sitting at the same table as breakfast, under the heated gaze of Evelyn Adler from across the room. It seemed dear Evelyn’s interest hadn’t faded through the morning hours, but if Max was aware of her unabashed stare, he’d done a good job of feigning oblivion. Holly had hoped to be able to chat with him before he was through with his meal, but the phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Guests slated to arrive in the coming days were inquiring about the weather conditions and yet another had already cancelled their weekend reservation. By the time she made it back to the dining area, Max was already gone.

Holly smiled to herself as she set down the wicker laundry basket outside the linen closet. She folded a soft ivory hand towel and placed it on its appropriate shelf, her mind firmly on Max instead of the task. She had thought her heart would nearly stop when she saw his tall, muscular frame standing in the doorway of Lucy’s Place that morning—it was her usual morning stop, and his presence had shaken her routine...in a good way. She had always enjoyed her quick trip into town to pick up a stack of fresh pies and have a cup of coffee with Lucy, but something told her from now on she would always have one eye on that diner door, half expecting him to walk through, looking every bit the strapping, rugged man that had so unexpectedly appeared this morning.




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