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Marriage Under the Mistletoe
Helen Lacey
Strong. Sensible.Dependable. That was Evie Dunn's type. Certainly not young, fearless, gorgeous firefighter Scott Jones. She knew the wisest course was to keep her distance, but she couldn't resist the allure of a holiday fling. Now the widowed single mom found herself with an unexpected post-Christmas gift–she was having Scott's baby!Scott came to Crystal Point to see his sister tie the knot, not fall for the alluring owner of the town's oceanfront B and B. He knew he was all wrong for Evie, but he would do anything to win her heart and build the family he'd always wanted. All he had to do was persuade Evie to take the biggest risk of her life…on love.


HE’S SO WRONG FOR HER, HE JUST MIGHT BE THE ONE
Strong. Sensible. Dependable. That was Evie Dunn’s type. Certainly not young, fearless gorgeous firefighter Scott Jones. She knew the wisest course was to keep her distance, but she couldn’t resist the allure of a holiday fling. Now the widowed single mom found herself with an unexpected post-Christmas gift—she was having Scott’s baby!
Scott came to Crystal Point to see his sister tie the knot, not fall for the alluring owner of the town’s oceanfront B and B. He knew he was all wrong for Evie, but he would do anything to win her heart and build the family he’d always wanted. All he had to do was persuade Evie to take the biggest risk of her life...on love.
“Don’t run away.”
Evie’s breath caught in her throat. “I have to,” she whispered.
“You act like I’m some sort of threat to you,” he said, and rubbed the underside of her arm with his fingers. “I’m not. At least, not intentionally.”
“That’s not it. I’m a threat to myself,” she admitted, hypnotized by his gentle caress. “I’m feeling so... I’m not sure what exactly. But I know I shouldn’t be feeling whatever it is. Maybe that doesn’t make sense—I don’t know. I only know that you’ll be gone in three weeks and I’ll still be here. And I have to make sure I’ll be here with myself and my life intact.”
His touch continued to hold her captive. “I have no intention of taking advantage of you, Evie,” he said softly, his voice as seductive as the soft stroke of his fingertips. “And if you feel like you’ve been suddenly hit by a freight train—well, frankly,
so do I.”
Dear Reader,
I’m so happy to welcome you back to Crystal Point and to my second Harlequin Special Edition novel, Marriage Under the Mistletoe.
You might remember Evie Dunn from Made for Marriage. Evie is a sensible, reliable woman who has no time in her life for romance. She’s a widow and mother and the kind of person who makes a good friend. She’s also the second eldest of her siblings and the person everyone goes to for advice.
When Scott Jones arrives in Crystal Point to attend his sister’s wedding he quickly falls for Evie. However, she has no intention of falling in love with the young and sexy fireman. But it’s Christmas and, well, there’s mistletoe....
I loved writing this book because it made me think about family and the dynamic between siblings, sisters in particular, and how we each have a role to play in our own family unit. I hope you enjoy Evie and Scott’s story and I invite you to return to Crystal Point very soon.
I love to hear from readers—I can be reached via my website at www.helenlacey.com (http://www.helenlacey.com).
Warmest wishes,
Helen Lacey
Marriage Under the Mistletoe
Helen Lacey


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
HELEN LACEY
grew up reading Black Beauty, Anne of Green Gables and Little House on the Prairie. These childhood classics inspired her to write her first book when she was seven years old, a story about a girl and her horse. She continued to write, with the dream of one day being a published author, and writing for Harlequin Special Edition is the realization of that dream. She loves creating stories about strong heroes with a soft heart and heroines who get their happily-ever-after. For more about Helen, visit her website, www.helenlacey.com (http://www.helenlacey.com).
For Jacqueline
Who told me there was no Santa, who always said I was adopted and whose old clothes never really fit me right.
Because sisters really do make the best friends.
Contents
Chapter One (#ud1ffe6a1-df30-5890-91a8-6da8bd41f40a)
Chapter Two (#ufb6a1b17-10a3-5dff-ab20-7dedc5177d35)
Chapter Three (#u594f0eb8-cfde-5f0f-ae77-cbe187ddf781)
Chapter Four (#u5cabfcee-1808-59a9-8c9a-34921a4fd47a)
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)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Evie Dunn pushed her feet from under the uncomfortable airport seat and let out a long sigh. Two hours of waiting in the arrivals terminal had stretched her patience. And she’d never liked airports all that much. There were too many people leaving, too many sad faces, too many goodbyes.
She looked at the cardboard sign in her hand and traced the outline of letters with her forefinger. Her soon-to-be sister-in-law’s kid brother was on the twelve o’clock out of Los Angeles via Sydney, and she’d agreed to pick him up. Because that’s what Evie did. She picked up, she dropped off. Rock-solid Evie. Ever-reliable Evie.
Boring-as-oatmeal Evie.
Not true. She made the correction immediately. She wasn’t boring. She was dependable and responsible. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. And today she was acting true to form after agreeing to make the four-hour road trip from Crystal Point to Brisbane and back again. If Evie’s nephew hadn’t fallen from his bike and broke his arm, Callie would have been doing this. I wish Callie was here now.
She liked who she was. Most of the time. When the twinges came—those niggling little voices telling her to break out, to take a risk, to be wild and unpredictable for once in her life—she pushed them back to where they belonged. Which was not in her world. She had a business to run and a teenage son to raise. Taking risks wasn’t on her horizon.
Passengers filed out of the gate, some greeting friends and family, some walked on alone. Evie stood up and held the sign out in front of her. As the parade of people dwindled, a tall, brown-haired man caught her attention. He moved with a confident lope, as though he was in no hurry, like a man with all the time in the world. And he looked a little familiar. Were they the same blue eyes as Callie’s? He wore khaki cargo pants belted low on his hips, a black T-shirt and he had an army-style duffel bag flung over one shoulder. He was broad, toned and gorgeous.
This is no kid brother.
His pace slowed and his eyes scanned the crowd, clearly looking for someone. He met her eyes. He looked at the sign, then Evie, then back to the sign. Seconds later he smiled. A killer smile that radiated through to the soles of her feet. He stopped a couple of meters in front of her and looked her over. A long, leisurely look that made her toes curl. For one ridiculous moment she wished she’d paid more attention to her appearance that morning.
“Hey, I guess you’re my ride?”
The soft, deeply resonant American drawl struck her low in the belly. She stuck out her hand. “Hi,” she said, aware her voice sounded unusually high pitched. “I’m Evie—Noah’s sister.”
His hand was big and easily wrapped around hers. “Scott,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”
Scott Jones aka The Most Gorgeous Man She Had Ever Laid Eyes On.
And about a generation too young for a thirty-six-year-old woman.
She cleaved her dry tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Did you have a good flight?”
“Reasonable. I had a three-hour stopover in Sydney after getting through customs.”
Evie ignored the rapid pump of her heart behind her ribs. “You can sleep some on the drive back if you like.”
He shrugged lightly. “I appreciate the lift.”
“No problem.”
“I guess I should collect my luggage.”
She nodded. “Sure. But first I think I should see your identification?”
“Huh?”
Evie squared her shoulders. “I need to make sure you’re who you say you are,” she said, ever cautious, always responsible.
He smiled and exposed the most amazing dimple in his cheek. “Okay,” he said, and reached into his back pocket.
Evie didn’t miss the way his biceps flexed as he moved. He pulled his passport out and handed it to her. She read his name—Scott Augustus Jones—and wasn’t surprised to see he was photogenic, too. Evie returned the document to him.
He smiled again. “Do you want to frisk me now?”
Evie nearly burst a blood vessel. “I don’t...I don’t think so,” she spluttered, feeling embarrassed and foolish. He was joking, of course. However, out of nowhere came the idea of running her hands across that chest and those thighs, and it made her hot all over. “Let’s go to baggage claim.”
He continued to smile and followed her down the escalators and she became increasingly aware of him behind her. And mindful of how dowdy and plain she must look to him in her faded denim skirt and biscuit-colored blouse. She smoothed her hands down her hips and tilted her chin.
It took about three minutes to find his bag and another five to reach her car. She was glad she’d borrowed her brother’s dual-cab utility vehicle instead of driving her own small sedan. She couldn’t imagine Scott Jones spending lengthy hours cramped up in her zippy Honda. Not with those long, powerful legs, broad shoulders, strong arms...
She sucked in a breath. Get a grip. And fast.
It had been forever since she’d really thought about a man in such a way. Oh, there’d been the odd inkling or an occasional vague and random thought. Mostly memories of the husband she’d loved and lost. But that was all. Acting on those thoughts was out of the question. She was a widow and mother, after all.
Ten years. The words swirled around in her head. An entire decade of abstinence. That would almost give me a free pass into a convent.
She looked at him again, as briefly as she could without appearing obvious.
Young came to mind immediately. And Callie’s brother. And only here for three weeks. And not my type.
Gordon had been her type. Strong and sensible. Her first and only love. They’d been happy together. But dealing with his senseless death had been hard. After that, she buried herself along with her husband. Buried the part of her that screamed woman and got on with living.
Or so she thought.
“Thank you for the ride.”
Evie didn’t budge her eyes and drove from the car park. “You said that already.”
He shifted in his seat and stretched his legs. “So, what happened to the kid?”
“Matthew fell off his bike two days ago and broke his arm. He’s out of hospital, but Callie didn’t want to leave him.”
Evie admired her brother’s fiancée. Callie had embraced her role as mother to Noah’s four children and had quickly become the tonic the family needed. When four-year-old Matthew had his accident, Evie had quickly stepped in to taxi Callie’s brother from Brisbane to Crystal Point. With her wedding only weeks away, the home she was selling in the middle of renovations and Matthew needing attention, Callie had enough on her plate without having to worry about her younger brother being stranded at the airport.
Only, Evie hadn’t expected him to look like this.
And she hadn’t expected her skin to feel just that little bit more alive, or her breath to sound as if it couldn’t quite get out of her throat quick enough. Okay, so that only proves that I still have a pulse.
“So,” she said, way more cheerfully than she felt, “what do you do for a living?”
He looked sideways. “I work for the Los Angeles Fire Department.”
Evie’s heart stilled. A firefighter? A hazardous occupation. Exactly what she needed to throw a bucket of cold water over her resurfacing libido. “That’s a dangerous job?”
“It can be.”
Evie’s curiosity soared. Ask the question. “So why do you do it?”
“Someone has to, don’t you think?”
“I guess.” He had a point. But it didn’t stop her thinking about the risks. She’d had years of practice thinking about risks, about dangers. A decade of thinking. Since the rainy night Gordon had donned his Volunteer Emergency Services jacket and left her with the promise to return, but never did. An awful night long ago. The night she’d shut down. She wondered about Scott’s motives. “But why do you do it? Are you an adrenaline junkie?”
He chuckled. It was such an incredibly sexy sound that Evie’s cheeks flamed.
“I’m sure my mom and sister think so.”
“But you don’t?”
“I do it because it’s my job. Because it’s what I’m trained to do. I don’t think about the reasons why. Do you sit down and analyze why you’re doing what you do?”
No. Because a shut-down person didn’t question herself. A shut-down person was all about control, the now. But she didn’t admit that. It was better to sound like everyone else. “Sometimes.”
“What exactly do you do?”
“I run a bed-and-breakfast.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I think Callie told me that. And you’ve got a kid?”
“Trevor,” she replied. “He’s fifteen.”
Although she remained focused on the road, Evie felt his surprised stare.
“You must have married young.”
Evie pushed her hair from her face. “By some standards, I suppose. I was nineteen.”
She could almost hear him do the math in his head and felt about one hundred years old. While he, she knew, was just twenty-seven.
She pushed the CD button on, waited for music to fill the cab and resisted the urge to sing along.
“Do you want to share the driving?”
Evie looked sideways. “We drive on the other side of the road.”
“I have an international license.”
Of course he did. He was young, gorgeous, fearless and accomplished. “I’ll let you know.”
He didn’t say anything for a while and relief pitched in her chest, although she felt the nearness of him through to her blood. What was it about men who looked like Scott Jones that made some women discard their usual good sense and want to jump their bones? But not her. Evie wasn’t about to make a fool of herself over a great body and an incredible smile.
She cast a quick look in his direction. His eyes were shut. Good. If he slept she wouldn’t have to talk. Besides, they had three weeks to get through, including the wedding, Christmas and New Year’s.
And she could bet, right down to the soles of her feet, that they’d turn out to be three of the longest weeks in history.
* * *
Scott wanted to sleep. He longed for it. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d caught more than a couple of hours without being bombarded by dreams.
Yes, I can...
Eight months, he thought. Give or take a day. It had been eight months since his colleague and friend Mike O’Shea had been killed. And he’d lived under a cloud of guilt and blame and regret ever since.
Because despite being acquitted of any negligence involving the incident that had taken Mike’s life, Scott felt responsible. He should have been able to save his friend. He should have tried harder, moved faster, relied on instinct rather than adhering to protocol. Mike had deserved that. So did the two young daughters and grieving wife he’d left behind.
It proved to Scott that a man with his profession couldn’t have it all. The job he had, the job he loved...that job and family didn’t mix. The wife-and-kids kind of family that meant commitment on a big scale. He’d been in love once, a few years back. He’d thought being involved with another firefighter would work, that she would understand the job, the pressures and the dangers involved. It lasted eighteen months before she’d bailed on him, their apartment and their plans for a future.
He should have expected it. Love hadn’t figured in his life since. Lust...well, that was different. Since Belinda had walked out he’d dated half a dozen different women. He’d slept with a few of them but had no inclination to pursue anything serious. Because serious wasn’t for him. Not while he was a firefighter.
Scott inhaled a deep breath and got a whiff of perfume. Something sweet...vanilla. He smiled when his brain registered how much he liked it. The woman beside him was extremely attractive; although she was so uptight he could feel the vibrations coming off her skin. But he liked the way she looked. He’d always been a sucker for long, dark, sexy hair. She had a nice mouth and big green eyes beneath slanting, provocative eyebrows. The type of woman he’d notice. Lush, he thought. And touchable in a way that could make a man’s palms itch.
Maybe I should talk to her and break the ice a bit? Talking with women had never been a problem. He liked women. They usually liked him. But she didn’t seem interested in conversation, so Scott kept his eyes closed and concentrated on the soft music beating between them.
Sleep...yeah...I can do that.
* * *
Evie had a headache. Probably from the tightly clenched jaw she couldn’t relax. Acutely conscious of the sleeping man beside her, she gripped the wheel and looked directly ahead. An hour and a half into the journey and she felt the need to stop for a fix of caffeine. She pulled into a truck stop twenty minutes later and maneuvered the pickup into a vacant space outside the diner. Her passenger didn’t stir as she turned off the engine and unclipped her belt. She looked him over and experienced a strange dip low in her belly. Really low.
Okay...so my body’s not quite the museum I thought it was.
Evie wasn’t sure how this sudden attraction made her feel. She wasn’t sure she wanted to feel anything. She wasn’t sure she even knew how anymore. Oh, she knew how to love her son, and her parents and her siblings and her nieces and nephews. And she was a good, loyal friend.
But a man? A flesh-and-blood man like the one in front of her—that was a different kind of feeling altogether. Memories of those kinds of feelings swam around in her head, like ghosts of a life once lived, a life that belonged to someone else.
The life of a woman who’d had a husband, a lover, a soul mate. When Gordon was alive she’d had those things. They’d laughed and loved. She felt passion and heat and sweat.
But Evie wasn’t that woman anymore.
She took a breath, grabbed her purse and got out as quietly as she could. The restaurant wasn’t busy and she quickly ordered coffee to go and a couple of prepackaged sandwiches. Evie hung around the counter until the order came, then stopped to collect sugar and plastic spoons from a small table near the door. She was just about to pocket some of both when she heard a voice behind her.
“How’s the coffee here?”
She turned. Scott was close. Really close. His chest seemed like a solid wall in front of her. “I’m not sure.” She held up a small cardboard carrier containing two foam cups. “It’s hot at least.”
“That’s a good start.”
Evie’s skin prickled. “I wasn’t sure how you liked it.”
He smiled. “Black, two sugars and milk.”
A funny guy. Great. She passed him four sachets of sugar. “Knock yourself out.”
“Shall we sit?” he asked.
Evie handed over the coffee. “Sure.”
She grabbed the food and followed him to one of the melamine tables and contained her surprise when he pulled out a chair for her. “How much do I owe you?” he asked once seated.
Evie shook her head and flouted the way her heart pounded beneath her ribs like a freight train. “My treat.”
He smiled again and she got another look at the dimple. “Thanks.” He took the lid off his coffee and poured in some sugar. “Callie tells me you’re in the wedding party?” he asked, resting both elbows on the table.
She nodded and pushed a sandwich toward him. “And you’re giving the bride away?”
“Yeah.” He looked at her over the rim of his cup. “So, what else do you do besides run a B and B?”
Evie carefully sipped her coffee. “I paint.”
“Houses?”
“Pictures,” she replied. “Portraits, landscapes...that sort of thing.”
“Talented and beautiful,” he said smoothly.
Color rose up her collarbone and she felt like shaking her head to refute the compliment. Evie knew she wasn’t beautiful. She had even enough features and was attractive at best. Her sister Grace, on the other hand, was a classic beauty. And Mary-Jayne, the youngest of the three sisters, had always been considered the pretty one. Evie was just...Evie.
“And I teach art classes at my studio. What about you?” she asked, ignoring the compliment. “What do you do?”
“Besides what I’m doing now?” he replied, then shrugged. “The usual, I suppose.”
“The usual?” she echoed.
He put down his cup and leaned back in the chair. “I work.”
Evie took a breath. Talk. Say something. I talk to people every day. I’m good at talking. “And when do you play?”
It wasn’t exactly what she’d planned to say. Because it sounded outright flirtatious. And she never flirted. Without warning, the sexy-as-sin Scott Jones had somehow tapped in to the female part of her she’d kept under wraps for a decade.
“I mean,” she said quickly, covering her escalating embarrassment. “Do you like sports and stuff?”
“I like sports.” He smiled. “Do you?”
“I like to watch sports,” she admitted. “Even the macho sweaty kind like football.”
“But you don’t play?”
She shrugged, suddenly feeling like a couch potato. “I run.”
“Me, too.”
With that body he did more than run—Evie would bet her boots on it.
“Shall we get going?” she asked, changing the subject. Before he had a chance to reply she grabbed her coffee and food and made her way outside. The late-afternoon sun was settling toward dusk and they still had another three hours driving ahead. It would be well after dark by the time they arrived into Crystal Point.
She hopped into the driver’s seat, started the engine and waited until they were both buckled up before heading off. They had a few minutes of silence before he spoke.
“Lacrosse.”
Evie slanted a sideways look. “What?”
“You’d probably like it,” he said. “It can be macho and sweaty.”
“I thought it was badminton on steroids?”
He laughed, and the sound thrilled her down to her toes. “Ouch. You don’t miss a man’s ego with that aim.”
A smile curled the edges of her mouth. “I’m guessing you play?”
“Yes. I still think you’d like it.”
“The next time I’m in L.A. I’ll be sure to catch a game.”
“Have you ever been?”
“Once,” she replied. “Years ago. Gordon and I did the whole tourist thing just after we were married.”
“Gordon? That was your husband?”
“Yes, he was.” Her voice automatically softened. “He’s dead.”
“Callie told me that,” he said soberly. “You must miss him.”
“Yes.”
“Were you happy?”
She shot a glance sideways for a moment. It was a highly personal question from a stranger. A stranger who would soon be family. Part of the Preston clan. Except, she hadn’t been Evie Preston for a long time. She was Evie Dunn, mother of one—mother-hen, her father often called her. The girl most likely to fade into the background and do whatever needed to be done. The sensible daughter.
“We were very happy,” she said quietly.
“And does your son look like his father?”
“No,” she replied. “Trevor looks like me.”
“Lucky kid.”
Another compliment. He was good at them. He had an easygoing way about him and a kind of masculine confidence she figured he’d probably possessed since the cradle.
Evie was tempted to say thank you, but she caught herself before the words left her mouth.
He stretched out his legs and she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at his thighs.
I really need to pull myself together...and fast.
She went for a rabbit in a hat. “So, your girlfriend couldn’t come on this trip with you?”
“I’m single,” he replied flatly.
“Sorry,” she said automatically. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
He looked at her again. She felt the burning intensity of his gaze through to her blood. He wasn’t fooled, either. She wanted to know, foolishly, if there was a woman in his life. And she felt stupid. Incredibly stupid. Like a silly teenager gushing over the new boy in school.
She glanced at him, hoping he didn’t notice, and wondered where all these sudden hormones had come from. Okay, so he wasn’t a boy. He was the furthest thing from a boy.
But he’s young. Way younger than acceptable.
Boy-Toy sprang to mind. Ridiculous. Cougar followed on its tail, racing around in her head like a chant, telling her to stop dreaming impossible dreams.
“I broke up with my ex-girlfriend over a year ago.”
Evie looked at Scott again, slanting her gaze sideways while concentrating on the road ahead. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
She gripped the steering wheel. “I guess...” Her words trailed, then stopped. “Actually I’m usually not one for platitudes. So I’ll happily take that back and stop sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“It would be a shame to waste such a pretty nose, don’t you think?”
Evie’s skin tingled. He turned a good line. She pointed to a stack of CDs in the center console. “You can choose some music if you like.”
He took a moment before flicking through the pile, and then Jack Johnson’s voice filtered through the cab.
“Good pick,” she said on a sharp breath.
“You sound surprised?”
Evie stared directly ahead. “My son tossed them to me this morning. I had no idea what he’d chosen. I expected—”
“That I’d go for something a little less mellow?”
“I guess.”
“I was raised on a steady diet of jazz from my father, and classic bands like The Eagles and Bread from my mom, who was, and still is a seventies purist,” he explained. “I like most types of music.”
Evie felt distinctly put in her place. “Sorry.”
“That’s a favorite word of yours.”
Around you it is. But she didn’t say it. All she wanted to do was stop thinking about his washboard belly, unfairly cute dimple and nice voice.
“I’ll just...” she began, and then stalled because she knew he was looking at her, summing her up and working her out. “I’m really quite okay to not talk if you’d prefer. You’ve had a long flight and I’m...”
He laughed softly. “Chill out, Evie,” he said with a grin she couldn’t see but knew was on his lips. “I can cope without conversation.”
He settled back in the seat and Evie drew in a sharp breath, feeling like such a fraud. She wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know why. She only knew that in a matter of hours, her life—the life she’d lived for so many years—seemed a lot like a life half-lived.
It was as though she’d been asleep for years, not thinking, not wondering. But Evie was wondering now. And she was awake. Wide awake.
Chapter Two
Scott woke up in a strange bed. He rolled onto his back, blinked twice and took stock of his surroundings. A nice room with sloping walls. A comfortable mattress. Clean sheets that smelled like fresh-squeezed lemons. Another scent caught his attention. Coffee. And vanilla.
Green eyes, lips the color of ripe California cherries, dark curly hair dancing down a woman’s back.
Evie Dunn.
Scott quickly remembered where he was. I’m in Evie’s bed.
Well, not technically her bed. Although that idea unexpectedly appealed to him when he inhaled another whiff of coffee laced with vanilla. A bed in her house. And not in the B and B part of the big home. These were her private quarters. That had surprised him. But she’d explained how the rooms were fully booked over the holiday season and with Callie and Noah’s wedding organized so suddenly she hadn’t time enough to change her bookings.
He checked the clock on the bedside table. Six o’clock. He’d been asleep for over nine hours. When they’d arrived at Dunn Inn the night before, he’d pretty much crashed within half an hour of dumping his duffel at the end of the bed.
Scott’s stomach growled. He was hungry. And his body ached. He swung out of bed and planted his feet on the floorboards. I need a run. He stood, stretched and then rummaged through his bag for sweats. It’s summer here, remember? He opted instead for shorts and a T-shirt, pulled on socks and trainers, found his iPod and left the room.
He headed down the hall and took the flight of stairs. The rich scent of coffee hit him again as he got to the side door and the private entrance Evie told him he could use. He could hear voices coming from the guest area and main kitchen and fought the urge to follow the sound. She was obviously busy. But he looked forward to seeing those sparkling green eyes again.
Once outside, Scott got a good look at the house. It was huge and had long windows protected by timber shutters and a gabled roof. He walked backward out of the front yard to the garden. Then he turned and was struck by the most incredible view of the Pacific Ocean barely one hundred meters away. As kids he and Callie had vacationed in the nearby town of Bellandale a few times, where their father had been born. But Scott had never seen Crystal Point before. Callie had told him about it, of course, and he’d listened to his sister’s stories about small-town life and the camaraderie among the residents and how she’d been readily accepted by the community. And Scott knew her marriage to Noah Preston would cement that bond and she’d never return to California.
He looked toward the ocean, inhaling deeply. The sea was as flat as glass and he spotted a couple of fishing boats on the horizon. He liked this place. Especially when he looked to his left and spotted Evie Dunn pounding the pavement on incredibly athletic legs. She jogged toward him, zigzagging across a wide stretch of grass between the road and the footpath. Black shorts flipped across her thighs as she moved. She wore a white tank shirt, bright pink socks and flashy new trainers, and her glorious hair was pulled back and tied up beneath an equally pink visor. Scott swallowed hard. She looked vibrant and wholly desirable.
“Hey,” she said, coming to a halt about six feet in front of him. “I didn’t think you’d be up this early.” She took in big gulps of air and planted her hands on her hips.
“I told you I run,” he said, trying not to look as though he was checking her out. He managed a smile and kept his gaze level with hers. “Perhaps next time we could go together?”
“Perhaps,” she said. “Well, I’d better go inside. I’ve got hungry guests waiting.”
She smiled and headed off past him at a slow jog. Scott turned instinctively and watched her until she disappeared around the side of the house. He liked the way she moved. He liked her curvy, athletic body.
A jolt of attraction ran through him, stronger this time. Not what he wanted. Definitely not. She wasn’t the casual kind of woman like those he’d been seeing since he’d broke up with Belinda. Evie Dunn looked like the kind of woman who’d want permanence—and more than that—she looked like the kind of woman who’d need permanence.
And that’s not me.
Commitment had no place in his life. He had his job—a job he had to prove to himself that he could do without distraction.
He put the earbuds in place and turned up the volume on the iPod. Stretching his travel-weary muscles for a few minutes, he then went for a long run and decided not to think about Evie’s great legs, or lovely hips or bright green eyes. He would just have to forget all about her.
* * *
The Manning sisters had been coming to Dunn Inn for nine years. Both in their seventies, both widows who’d married twin brothers, they shared a profound camaraderie that Evie knew she’d have with her own sisters throughout the years. Her sisters were her best friends, her confidantes, her conscience, her troubleshooters. She wondered what they would think of her new houseguest—or the semierotic dream she’d had about him the night before.
Evie listened to Flora Manning explain her newest recipe for double chocolate fudge brownies while she served them breakfast in the main dining room. Sticklers for tradition, the sisters preferred to have all their meals in the bigger room, and forgo Evie’s usual and more casual approach of breakfast in the kitchen. Most of her guests favored that particular meal at the long wooden table where they could chat among themselves and with Evie.
But the Manning sisters liked the good china and the pressed tablecloths and the fresh flowers Evie always maintained in the formal dining area. And because her next guests weren’t arriving until that afternoon, Evie gave Flora and Amelia a little extra attention.
“Did we see you talking with a man outside?” Amelia asked as she sipped her tea.
Evie looked up from her spot at the buffet table. There was clearly nothing wrong with the Manning sisters’ eyesight despite their recent protestations about their failing senses. “He’s here for my brother’s wedding.”
“Ah,” Flora said, nodding to her sister. “Told you so.”
“Mmm,” she replied, and placed a rack of toast and petite pots of marmalade on a serving plate.
“He’s a nice-looking young man,” Amelia said.
Definitely nothing wrong with their eyesight. “I guess he is.”
“And he’s staying until after the wedding?” Amelia asked.
Evie nodded. “Up until New Year’s, I believe.”
The sisters shared another look. “Is he a relative of yours?”
“No,” she replied. “He’s Callie’s brother. As you know, Callie’s engaged to my brother.”
Two sets of silver eyebrows rose. “Is he married?”
“No.”
Another look—this one a little triumphant. “Straight?” Flora, the more to-the-point sister, asked.
Evie smiled to herself. “Yes.”
“You should find yourself a man.” Flora again, never one to hold back, spoke as she smoothed out her perfectly groomed chignon. “Your son needs a father.”
Heat prickled up her spine. “He has a father.”
Flora tutted. “A ghost,” she said. “The same ghost you cling to.”
Evie’s hands stilled. “Not a ghost,” she said, probably a little sharper than she would have liked. But she knew the sisters’ cared about her. Telling it how they saw it was simply their way. “Just memories of a good man.”
“Just promise you’ll think about it,” Amelia said with a soft smile. “Now, when are you going to finish decorating the house?”
Good question. With Christmas only weeks away Evie usually had all the trimmings up. Granted, the beautiful cypress tree stood center stage in the living room and looked remarkable with its jewel-colored decorations and lights. Noah usually helped her with the rest of the garlands and tinsel she always scattered around the big house. But this year was different. He and Callie had their own home to decorate, and Evie hadn’t wanted to bother her brother simply because she wasn’t tall enough to finish decking the halls.
“I’ll get to it as soon as I can,” she promised, thinking the ladder in the shed out back would do the trick.
She returned to the main kitchen and left the sisters with their breakfast. She was just stacking the dishwasher when the door connecting the guest quarters and the stairwell leading to her private residence opened. Her sleepy-looking son emerged.
“Good morning,” she greeted.
“We’re out of milk upstairs,” he muttered, eyes half-closed.
Evie opened the refrigerator and took out a plastic carton of milk for her cereal-addicted son. “Try and make it last past this afternoon,” she teased.
“Sure,” he said. “Hey, can I have twenty bucks? There’s a computer gaming party at Cody’s tomorrow night and we all want to pitch in for snacks.”
Evie raised one brow. “What happened to your allowance this week?”
He shrugged. “I could say the dog ate it.”
“We don’t have a dog.”
“But we should get one,” Trevor said, swiftly employing his usual diversion tactics as he draped one arm across her shoulders and grinned. “It could be a guard dog. Especially for those times when I’m not here and you’re all alone.”
“I’m rarely alone,” Evie said. “We have a seventy-five-percent occupancy rate, remember?”
“I remember. So, about that twenty bucks?”
“If you help me put up the rest of the Christmas decorations tonight, I’ll consider it.”
Trevor rolled his eyes. “Well, I have to—”
“No help, no snack money.”
Her son’s dark hair flopped across his forehead. “Okay,” he agreed begrudgingly. “But I’m not wearing a Santa hat while I do it like you made me last year.”
“Spoilsport.” She checked her watch. “You better go upstairs and finish breakfast. Cody’s mother will be here soon to drive you to school.” She took a few strides toward him and gave his cheek a swift kiss. “And don’t forget the milk.”
As one young male raced out of the room, another walked right on in through the back door. Only this young man set her pulse soaring. It should be illegal for any man to have arms like that. The pale blue T-shirt did little to disguise the solid muscle definition. She spotted a Celtic braid tattoo banding his right biceps. Oh, sweet heaven.
Scott smiled when he saw where he’d ended up. “I think I took the wrong door.”
Evie managed not to look him over as if he were a very tasty hot lunch. He looked as though he’d been running hard. His hair, a kind of dark hazelnut color, stuck to his forehead in parts while sweat trickled down his collarbone.
“You should find yourself a man.”
Flora Manning’s words returned with vengeance. Should she? Was that what she wanted? Sure—Evie was attracted to him. Any woman would be, right? He was young and gorgeous and had somehow kick-started her sleeping sexuality. But it was just lust. Just attraction. And attraction was...well, pointless if it wasn’t backed up with something more, wasn’t it? With Gordon she’d had more. She’d had love and loyalty. A marriage. Happiness.
Evie swallowed. “It’s a big house. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“I don’t remember much of the tour you gave me last night, I’m afraid,” he said, just a little breathless.
“Did you sleep okay?”
He nodded and took in a few gulps of air. “Like a baby.”
Evie had a startling image in her head of long, powerful legs and smooth silk-on-steel skin wrapped in cotton bedsheets. She cleared her throat in an effort to stop her thoughts from wandering any further. “Breakfast will be upstairs.”
“You’re joining me?”
“Er—yes. I just have to see to my guests.” She quickly explained about the Manning sisters.
“I’ll see you upstairs, then,” he said, and chose that moment to grab the hem of his T-shirt and wipe the sweat from his face. Evie’s eyes almost popped out of her head as she caught sight of the most amazing abs she’d ever seen. A six-pack. A twelve-pack. She could swear he’d heard the rush of breath from her lips and felt the vibration of her heart pounding like an out-of-control jackhammer.
“Yeah...okay.”
He disappeared through the door that led upstairs, and it wasn’t until she heard his footsteps on the top of the landing that she left the kitchen and returned to the dining room. The sisters were still sipping tea and peeling the crusts off toast, and Evie collected a few dishes and told them she’d be back later for the rest. When she was done in the main kitchen, she headed upstairs. She could hear water running in the guest bathroom and relaxed fractionally. Trevor was placing his empty cereal bowl in the sink when she entered the kitchenette and pantry. They heard the familiar beep of a horn outside.
“That’s my ride. I gotta go.” Trevor grabbed his knapsack and left on fast feet.
Evie filled the jug and pulled two mugs from the cupboard. By the time Scott reappeared about ten minutes later, she’d chopped fruit and set the small table she usually only shared with her son.
Faded jeans fitted over his hips, and the black T-shirt did little to disguise the breadth of his broad shoulders and flat stomach. His feet were bare, his hair freshly washed. He smelled clean and extraordinarily masculine. The mood felt uncomfortably intimate and Evie suddenly regretted agreeing to allow him to stay in her home. Downstairs would have been better. Downstairs was about business. Upstairs was her private world. A world she shared with her son. A world no man had entered for ten years.
He looked around and then pulled out a chair. “This is an incredible house,” he said easily. “You have good taste.”
And I’ll bet you taste good...
She cleared her throat and held up the jug. “Coffee?”
“For sure.” He sat down. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?”
Desperate to change the subject, Evie grabbed a couple of slices of bread. “So, how do you like your toast?”
He smiled. “However you’d like to give it to me,” he said, and looked at the bread flapping in her hands.
Evie did her best to ignore the inflammatory words and placed the bread in the toaster, set out two plates and grabbed the diced fruit. Once the toast popped and the jug boiled, she poured coffee and moved toward the small table.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, taking the coffee she slid across the table. “About anything you need doing around the place while I’m living with you.”
Evie felt the familiarity of his words down to her feet. She should have insisted he stay at her parents’ house instead of volunteering to keep him at Dunn Inn. Keep him? She meant have him. No, that wasn’t right, either. I’m not having him. I’m not having anyone.
“I’ve got it covered. Besides, you’re on vacation, aren’t you?” she asked as she placed the food on the table and shifted her thoughts from his fabulous abdominals to a more neutral topic.
“I guess,” he replied, and placed toast on a plate. When she remained silent he looked up. “I’d like to earn my keep, though.”
“You’re a guest,” she said quietly.
“And family,” he said, and bit into a piece of toast. “We’ll be in-laws soon enough.”
Evie met his blue eyes head-on.
“So, family does stuff for one another, right?”
Ever cautious, Evie narrowed her gaze. “What did you have in mind?”
“You tell me,” he said easily. “It’s a big house—I imagine there are always things that need doing.”
I need doing came to mind and color immediately rose over her cheeks. She wanted Sensible Evie to come back. She needed her to come back before she made a complete fool of herself. But Sensible Evie had deserted her. In her place was I Haven’t Had Sex In Ten Years Evie, and she was suddenly a strong, undeniable force.
“I’ll let you know,” she said. “But like I said, I’ve got it covered.”
“You don’t like taking help from people?”
Evie sucked in a breath. “Sure I do,” she said, lying through her teeth. “But I’m well practiced at doing what needs to be done through both habit and necessity.”
“So I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes by being here?” he asked, watching her with such burning scrutiny she had to turn her eyes away.
Evie knew what the question meant, knew he’d probably wondered if she had a man in her life. “No. There’s just me and my son.”
“Hard to believe,” he said quietly.
She returned her gaze to his immediately. “What? That I’m single or that I choose to be that way?”
He smiled. “That you’re not beating them off with a stick.”
“Who says I’m not?”
Evie tried to look casual, tried to make out as though her heart wasn’t thumping stupidly behind her ribs. But it was. In fact, her entire body was thumping—like a runaway train, like a horse galloping out of control.
“I stand corrected.”
He was smiling and that incredible dimple showed itself. Okay, so she wasn’t exactly turning potential lovers away at the door. But she’d had a few offers over the years. None she’d pursued.
“Are you okay, Evie?”
No...but she wasn’t about to tell Mr. Great Body And Gorgeous Dimple that she was hot and bothered because of him. “Perfectly.”
But he wasn’t fooled. And neither was she. Something hung between them. Something unsaid. She picked at the fruit in front of her to avoid saying anything else. Once breakfast was over he offered to wash up. Evie was about to refuse when she heard the downstairs door open and a familiar voice called her name.
“That’s Callie,” Evie said, and pushed out her chair. Scott did the same and moments later the kitchen door opened and his sister entered the room.
Callie stood in the threshold and her gaze flicked over them. Evie felt the scrutiny through to her bones. The kitchen was small, cozy, intimate. Evie knew the other woman could feel the invisible current in the air as much as she could.
Callie quickly came into the room and flung herself at her brother in an affectionate hug. Noah wasn’t far behind and once Evie returned the keys to his truck the two men shook hands, quickly summed each other up as men seemed to be able to do without even speaking and started a quiet conversation. Then Callie headed Evie off by the sink.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Callie said on a rush of breath. “I mean, for picking up my little brother.”
Little brother? Sure. Evie was struck by the remarkable resemblance between the siblings. Her soon-to-be sister-in-law was quite beautiful and Evie knew how deeply Noah loved the spirited and passionate brunette.
“No thanks necessary,” she said, and set the dishes on the draining board. “It’s—”
“Family,” Callie said. “Yeah, I know. But I still appreciate it. I can’t believe all the connecting flights from Brisbane to Bellandale were booked up.”
“There’s the big air show on this weekend,” Evie explained. “Every flying enthusiast from around the state travels here for it. Same thing happens each year.” She grabbed her rubber gloves. “Are the kids at my parents’?”
“Yes. We dropped them off before we came over here.” Callie leaned back against the melamine countertop. “Matthew’s enjoying the cast on his arm. Crazy to think we’re at the end of the school year already. But I’m so looking forward to Christmas.”
Evie smiled. “You are getting married Christmas Eve.”
“Self-indulgent, I know,” Callie said with such a blissfully happy grin Evie felt a tiny stab of envy. “Speaking of all things wedding—you and Fiona have an appointment with the dressmaker next Thursday at ten o’clock.”
“It’s on my list,” Evie replied. “Fiona called me a few days ago to confirm.” Fiona Walsh was the other bridesmaid in the wedding party and a friend of both Callie and Evie. “I’ll be there.”
“And thanks so much for your help with the caterers,” Callie said. “I can’t believe we’ve managed to organize all this in a little over a month. You’re a genius. And a good friend.”
“It’s a special day,” Evie said, and grinned. “And I like planning things.”
“Fortunately for me.”
“It will be a perfect evening,” she assured her, sensing a few bride-to-be nerves in the usually composed Callie. “My brother’s a lucky man.”
Callie smiled dreamily. “I’m the lucky one.”
The stab of envy returned and Evie squashed it down in a hurry. She wouldn’t begrudge Callie her happiness. “You’re both lucky. So are the kids.”
Her friend looked radiant. Have I ever looked like that?
Yes, of course. Absolutely. Without a doubt.
She’d loved Gordon since she was seventeen years old. He’d been her first kiss, first lover...her only lover. They’d shared dreams, values and the joy of raising their young son. And something else, a bond between two people so in tune with each other’s thoughts, so completely at ease with each other it was as if they were halves of the same whole. And Evie didn’t expect to ever have that again. And she wasn’t about to throw herself out there looking for it.
Evie settled her gaze on Scott again, and her pulse quickened. It’s just physical. But despite the warning bells going off in her head, the attraction she felt for him suddenly poleaxed her.
Sex clouded judgments, right? Sex made people do crazy things. Inappropriate things. She had no illusions. Fantasies about a man nine years her junior were completely off the Richter scale in the good-sense department. Of course he wouldn’t be interested in her. He’d have his pick. And he certainly wouldn’t choose a thirty-six-year-old single mother well past her prime.
Besides, he was a firefighter. And men with dangerous occupations had no place in her life. She’d already lost one man to the elements. She wasn’t about to start fantasizing about a man who chose to run into burning buildings.
That settled, Evie announced she had a B and B to run and excused herself. She was quietly relieved when Scott arranged to leave with his sister and Noah. She told him she’d left a spare key on the armoire in the guest bedroom and said goodbye to her brother and Callie before returning downstairs.
She had a lot of work to do. And a gorgeous man she had to get out of her head. Somehow.
Chapter Three
Scott spent most of the day with his sister. Callie’s property, Sandhills Farm, was a few minutes out of Crystal Point. The For Sale sign out front was new and Callie explained how she had plans to relocate her horse riding school to Noah’s larger property within the coming months.
“It’s a big move,” she said as they walked up through the stables. “But I’ve only ten acres here and I can easily take about twenty acres at Noah’s. Plus, I don’t want to be commuting every day and I want my horses close to me. I’m working on the house renovations now and will try to find a tenant if it doesn’t sell quickly.”
Scott didn’t think she’d have a problem finding a buyer. Sandhills Farm was an impressive setup for any equestrian enthusiast, with its stable complex, round yards and sand arena. “So, you’re happy?”
Callie’s eyes opened wide. “Blissfully,” she replied. “Noah’s just so...” She stopped, smiled a silly sort of smile Scott couldn’t remember ever seeing on his sister’s face before and let out a long sigh. “He’s everything.”
Everything? That was a tall order. Scott couldn’t imagine being everything to any woman. Not even Belinda way back when he’d been convinced he was in love with her.
“I’m glad he makes you happy.” He’d better, were the words unsaid.
Callie looped her arm through his. “What about you?” she asked. “Anyone special in your life at the moment?”
“No,” he replied, thinking about Evie all of a sudden. He pushed the thought back quickly.
Callie smiled. “Are you looking?”
Scott raised both brows. “Not intentionally.”
His sister gave him an odd look. “I wish you were staying longer,” she said. “With Mom arriving in two weeks and the wedding just around the corner, I don’t think I’ll be much in the way of a tour guide while you’re here.”
Scott shrugged and looked around. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got more important things to think about.”
Callie squeezed his forearm. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. And you’re in good hands with Evie.”
Scott’s stomach did a wild leap. Thinking about Evie Dunn’s hands made him remember how she’d looked in her small kitchen earlier that morning. She’d looked...beddable. Was there such a word? In jeans and a white loose-fitting shirt that exposed just enough of her collarbone to raise his temperature a degree or two, Scott had barely been able to drag his gaze away from her. She had lovely skin. And that hair—masses of dark curls reaching way past her shoulders. He’d wanted to twist it around his hands, tilt her head back and kiss the smooth skin along her throat.
“Scott, about Evie...”
He shifted on his feet. Had Callie read his thoughts? “What about her?”
She smiled fractionally. “She’s, you know, my friend. And Noah’s sister.”
“The point being?”
Callie expelled a breath. “The point being that she’s my friend. And there seemed to be a fair bit of heat between you in the kitchen this morning.”
“You’re imagining things.” His sister raised both brows again and gave him a look. Scott held up a hand. “I left chasing everything in a skirt behind in my teens.”
Callie gave a grim smile. “I know that. But since you and Belinda broke up and then Mike’s death, you’ve changed and I—”
“Belinda was a long time ago,” he said, cutting her off. “And I don’t see what Mike has to do with any of this.”
Callie shrugged. “He was your friend.”
“And?”
“And losing a friend like that must be hard. And Evie, well, she’s like a magnet. Everyone feels it about her. She’s warm and generous and so incredibly likable. Anyone who meets her gets drawn in. I would hate to see her get hurt.”
“By me?” Scott pushed back the irritation weaving up his back. Callie was way off base. Sure, he was attracted to Evie Dunn. But he had no intention of acting on that attraction. He already worked out that Evie wasn’t for him.
Okay...maybe I did flirt with her a bit this morning. But flirting is harmless. It won’t go anywhere. I’ll make sure of that.
“You’re jumping to conclusions,” he said to his sister. “We barely know each other.”
Callie made a face. “I know what I saw.”
“Just drop it, Callie.”
She did, but the thought stuck with Scott for the rest of the afternoon. By the time Callie dropped him off at Dunn Inn, it was past three o’clock. Evie’s car was parked in the driveway and Scott was just fishing in his pocket for his key when he spotted a teenage boy shooting hoops near the studio out back. And shooting them pretty badly.
The youth stopped playing when Scott approached and spoke. “Hi.”
Scott smiled and shook the teenager’s hand as he introduced himself. Evie Dunn’s son seemed like a nice kid. Of course, Evie’s kid wouldn’t be anything else.
“Wanna shoot?” Trevor asked, and tossed the ball to him. “It would be good to see the thing actually go in the hoop.”
Scott laughed and swiftly dropped the ball into the basket. “You just need to work on your angle.”
Trevor shrugged and smiled. “I’m not much of a sportsman. Take after my mother, I guess.”
Scott remembered how Evie had looked that morning in her running gear. She certainly seemed to keep herself in great shape. “She’s an artist,” Scott said, and then felt foolish.
Trevor looked at him oddly, but continued to smile. “I guess. My dad was the sporty one.”
“Mine, too,” Scott replied, and passed the ball on.
The teenager grabbed the basketball, aimed, concentrated and shot it at the hoop. It missed and rebounded directly into Scott’s hands. “My dad’s dead.”
Scott lobbed the ball back through the hoop once it bounced. “Mine, too.”
Trevor grabbed the ball and took another shot. The ball curved around the edges of the hoop before dropping to the side. “Yeah...it sucks.”
They continued to shoot hoops and talk for several minutes, until a taxi pulled up outside the house and two elderly women emerged. As they walked slowly up the driveway, Trevor groaned under his breath. The women approached on quickening feet and Scott watched their progress with a broad grin.
It took them precisely five seconds to persuade Scott to help them carry their bags from the footpath and into the house. Trevor smiled as if he’d been given a Get Out Of Jail Free card and went back to shooting hoops.
There were about a dozen shopping bags from various retail outlets, and Scott guessed the two women had spent the day scouting the stores in Bellandale. The perfectly groomed pair were obviously the Manning sisters who Evie had told him about on the long drive from the airport. They regarded him with such blatant curiosity it felt as if their two sets of eyes were burning a hole through his back as he walked up the half dozen steps and opened the front screen door while juggling the parcels.
Once they’d stepped over the threshold, Scott closed the door and followed them through the house. Vanilla. The scent hit him immediately. Evie.
The living room was large and immaculately presented, but it was the huge, ornately decorated Christmas tree that held his attention. It was a real tree—the kind he remembered from when he was young and his father was still alive. Memories banged around in his head. They’d go out together and find the perfect tree, strap it to the roof of his father’s Volvo and make the trip home laughing, because they both knew his mother would insist on moving the tree around for hours before she finally settled on a spot to showcase her decorating efforts. And they laughed because, inevitably, the tree ended up in the same position every year.
Funny, he didn’t think about those days much anymore. He tried not to think about how much he still missed his father. He’d been a good man, and a good dad. But reckless. And that recklessness had contributed to his death. A desk jockey by day, his father would pursue one adventure after another on the weekend. Sailing, skiing, climbing. Ultimately, it was the climbing that killed him. His death had galvanized something inside Scott. At eighteen he had been determined to join the fire department and approached the job responsibly. He didn’t take risks. He followed the rules.
And those rules didn’t include fantasizing about Evie Dunn.
A widow. A single mom.
Two very good reasons to keep his head.
The Manning sisters thanked him for his help, and Scott was just about to make a quick exit when Evie walked into the room. She smiled at him and his chest tightened unexpectedly. He smiled back, saw her cheeks flush and then quickly she diverted her gaze. His thoughts lingered on how pretty she was. And all that incredible, seriously sexy hair. She started talking with the sisters, but he could feel the vibration of her awareness of him like a drum beating. Because she appeared to be trying not to look at him.
Scott had placed the bags near the foot of one of the sofas, and Evie and the elderly sisters began unloading the contraband. He stood back and watched, amused by the clear delight the three women displayed as bags were opened and items unwrapped. Evie’s animated expression was addictive and he couldn’t look away. He watched her unload parcels and sigh her appreciation for the treasures as she unwrapped close to a dozen shiny glass ornaments and garlands and laid them carefully on the sofa. Scott snatched a glance at the tree behind him and quickly realized something. Evie loved Christmas. He could easily imagine her trimming a turkey, wrapping gifts with matching paper and ribbon, singing carols on Christmas Eve and doing all the things that made the festive season special.
A magnet, Callie had called her. Someone who draws people in.
Was that what she was doing to him? But Scott was convinced it was just physical attraction. He’d been attracted to women before. Some he’d dated. Some he’d slept with.
Evie looked across at him briefly and the smile curling her lips made his stomach roll over. Her cheeks flushed again, brighter this time. Scott’s fingers itched with the sudden urge to reach out and touch her face, to trace the line of her jaw and her delicious-looking mouth. Her lips parted, as if she knew he was thinking about them...wondering, imagining if they tasted as sweet as they looked. Her tongue came out and moistened her lower lip. The kick of it rushed to his feet, traveled up his legs and hit him square in the groin.
With his heart hammering behind his ribs, Scott looked at the two elderly women still fussing over their parcels and knew he had to get away from Evie...and fast. He cleared his throat and quickly excused himself.
By the time he’d returned to the private quarters and headed for his room, his breathing was back to normal. He sat on the edge of the big bed, took a deep breath and clenched his fists. I’m not going to get involved here. I’m going home soon—back to my life—back to everything I know. Three weeks, Jones...I gotta keep it together.
* * *
Evie lingered in the largest downstairs bedroom later that afternoon. She had guests arriving soon—a newly married couple who were staying for a week. The bedroom was her favorite in the house—big and airy and decorated in the palest hues of purple, lavender and white. It had its own bathroom and small sitting area, and the enormous bed was scattered with half a dozen cushions in various shades of mauve. She fluffed a couple of pillows, straightened the white lace bedspread and fiddled with the vase of lilac-and-cream miniature roses that sat on the dresser.
She thought about Scott. Her blood pumped when she remembered how he’d looked at her. The air had smoldered with a kind of throbbing, consuming, slowly building heat.
This is so crazy...he’s twenty-seven years old, for heaven’s sake.
Evie took a deep breath, straightened the already straight bedspread and headed upstairs. Back in her own room she looked out the window and saw her son shooting his basketball into the hoop. Scott was with him. They were talking and throwing the ball. She heard a shout of laughter from her son and it tightened something in her chest.
Oh...no...I’m not going to like him. But seeing him with her son made her like him. Not just lust, she thought, something else, an awareness of him on another level.
And Trevor’s laughter made Evie ache inside. She knew her son longed for regular male company, a man’s influence...a father’s influence.
Imagining Scott in that role was foolish. He’d be gone in three weeks.
Her guests arrived about ten minutes later. In their mid-fifties and obviously in love, Trent and Patti Keller were all smiles when Evie showed them to their room. A tiny stab of envy knotted tightly and she tamped it down.
Evie gave them a tour of the house, and introduced them to the Manning sisters, who were reading in the front living room. She told them dinner was at seven and left her guests together.
Upstairs, Evie showered, slipped into white cotton cargo pants and an emerald-green collared T-shirt and low-heeled sandals. She raked a comb through her hair, applied a little makeup and headed from her room. She stopped outside Scott’s bedroom. Dinner’s at seven in the main dining room. Please join me and my guests. Her knuckles hovered millimeters from the door. Just ask him.
“Evie?”
He was behind her. Not in his room. She turned around, took a deep breath and told him about dinner. “So, will you join us?”
“Of course. Do I need to change?”
Evie couldn’t help licking her gaze over his tall, muscular body. Jeans and T-shirt were such a great look on him. “No. I’ll see you at seven.” She turned on her heel and headed downstairs.
Evie loved to cook and adored her big, well-appointed kitchen. She wrapped her favorite apron over her clothes, finished off the lemon meringue pie she’d whipped up earlier that afternoon and popped it into the refrigerator to chill. The mustard beef and assortment of roasted vegetables were done within the hour and she set everything ready in the kitchen before making her way to the dining room. She set the big table for six. There would be no Trevor tonight. He’d pleaded to go to Cody’s to study and promised to be home by nine o’clock. Once the buffet was set up with chilled wine and imported beer, Evie returned to the kitchen.
At five minutes to seven, people began entering the dining room. Evie noticed Scott first. Before she could say anything, the Manning sisters arrived and quickly cornered him. Evie had to smile. He took their monopoly of him with a grin and appeared to be genuinely interested in their conversation. Evie relaxed when the Kellers entered the room. Once all the introductions were done, she brought in the food and invited everyone to be seated.
It was a relaxed, enjoyable evening—mostly because Scott Jones was so effortlessly charismatic he held the attention of all her guests. Evie was as seduced by his humorous anecdotes and stories as the three other women at the table. He talked NASCAR with Trent Keller, antique restoration with Amelia Manning and the dwindling power of the European monarchies with her sister. And Evie, normally the one to hold court with her guests, remained mute and ate her dinner and simply listened to the sound of his voice.
Once dinner and dessert was done and her guests moved from the dining room and into the front living area, Evie began clearing up the dishes and remaining food. Busy with her task, she didn’t immediately notice how Scott had stayed behind and now stood in the doorway, watching her intently. Very intently. His blue-eyed gaze scorched over her as if they were linked by a thread of fire.
“Need some help?”
No. “Ah—sure.”
“So,” he said quietly as he grabbed a stack of dishes. “Flora tells me you need a hand putting up some decorations?”
Evie stilled. “Trevor’s going to help me.”
His brows rose over those remarkable eyes. “Trevor’s not here, though.”
He had a point. “Well, no. I can get to it tomorrow night.”
“Trevor mentioned he had a party at his friends’ place tomorrow night?”
And another point. “Oh, yes, that’s right.” She didn’t want his help and didn’t want to question why. “I’ll do it some other time, then.”
“No time like the present,” he said easily. “Flora and Amelia are keen to see them up.”
He was right. She had promised to finish decorating the house. Not accepting his help made her sound foolish and neurotic. “Well, okay. I could use some help later.”
That settled Evie headed back to the kitchen with her arms loaded. Scott was close behind her and then made another trip to collect what remained. He stayed and helped stack the dishwasher, and Evie was so excruciatingly aware of his every movement she had to stop herself from staring at him.
Once the kitchen was cleaned up, Evie turned toward him. “There’s a ladder in the shed outside. Perhaps you could—”
“Sure,” he said quickly, and disappeared through the back door.
While he was gone Evie retrieved a box of decorations from the cupboard beneath the stairs. When he returned she was waiting in the front foyer, armed with scissors, double-sided tape, a packet of small nails and a hammer.
Scott held the ladder in the crook of his arm. “So, where do you want me?”
A loaded question.
Evie cleared her throat and pointed to the archway above. “I’d like this put up there,” she said, and pulled a wreath from the box.
Scott placed the ladder in the doorway. He took the wreath and held out his hand for nails and the hammer. “Just tell me where,” he said, and climbed up the steps.
Evie stood still and gave instructions. Not so easy. When he reached the top step, her eyes were directly in line with his groin. Not easy at all. She looked toward the floor and examined the rubber stops at the bottom of the ladder and counted the markings on the timber floorboards. She looked anywhere but straight ahead. But temptation grabbed hold of the blood in her veins and she looked up and almost lost her breath when he raised his arms to knock in the small nails and his jeans slipped fractionally, exposing that glorious, beautiful belly, and her breath suddenly caught.
“Evie?”
She jerked her head up so fast she almost snapped her neck. As he looked down at her, Evie knew she’d been caught staring.
He smiled. “I need another nail.”
She pulled another from the box and dropped it into his outstretched palm.
“That should do it,” he said, and came down the steps. “Anything else?”
Evie dived for the box and withdrew another green and bronze festive wreath. “This,” she said, taking a breath. “On the front door.”
While he attended to the door, Evie looked inside the box. Mistletoe. The everlasting plastic type sat in a bunch at the bottom of the box. The last thing she wanted were sprigs of the kissing plant hung up at every doorway. She shoved it back into the corner of the box and pulled out three lengths of long green garland instead. “This goes in the front living room,” she explained. “Along the picture rail.”
“Lead the way.”
She tucked the box under her arm and walked toward the front room. There was no sign of her guests and she assumed they’d all retired for the evening. It took about fifteen minutes to hang the remaining garlands. When they were done she adjusted a few lights on the Christmas tree and pretended not to notice his movements when he folded up the ladder and placed the hammer and tape back in the box. The tree really was spectacular—now all she needed to do was begin her shopping and put some parcels beneath it.
“What about this?” He pulled something out of the box.
The mistletoe.
In his hands, the small plastic greenery seemed to be laughing in her face. She should have tossed the stuff in the garbage bin. “I don’t think so.”
He grinned. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Not even one piece?”
He was still grinning. Probably amused by the look on my face. Evie tried to keep her voice light. “If that goes up I’m sure the Manning sisters will be chasing you around the house for the next three weeks.”
He smiled, showing off that dimple, making her head spin. He twirled the bunch of plastic sprigs between his fingers. “I guess it’s fortunate I have a thing for older women.”
“It’s still not a good idea,” she managed to say, and fought back the feeling she was treading into deep water. But she felt the awareness in the air—it pulsed between them, catching them both, fanning the flames of an attraction she somehow knew was unmistakable.
He smiled again and tossed the item back in the box. “It’s your call.”
Yes, it is. “Well, thank you for your help. Good night.”
His brows rose fractionally. “Are you sending me off to bed, Evie?”
She colored wildly, feeling the heat, feeling the air thicken. “Of course not. I just—”
A door slammed at the back of the house. Trevor. Evie made a sound of almost palpable relief. “That’s my son. I should go and see if he’s eaten.” She turned and walked away but stopped at the threshold. I’m being such an idiot. When she turned back, he was still standing by the box. “Peppermint tea,” she said loosely, shaking her shoulders. “I’m making some if you’re interested.”
He smiled and the lethal dimple showed itself again. “Coffee would be better.”
“Sure...coffee.”
Evie headed upstairs and felt him in her wake. Trevor was standing by the open refrigerator when she walked into the kitchenette. “Hungry?” she asked her son.
Trevor shook his head. “Not anymore,” he replied before he shoved a piece of cold homemade pizza into his mouth.
Scott was behind her and she heard him laugh softly. Evie ignored the way her belly rocked at the sound and concentrated on her son. “I can make you some—”
“I think I’m gonna crash,” Trevor said.
Stay. But she didn’t say it. Didn’t dare admit she needed her son’s presence to shield her from her ever-growing awareness around Scott. She bid him good-night and waited until she heard his bedroom door shut before filling the jug. Scott sat in a chair, the same one he’d occupied that morning.
He looks so good in my kitchen. I could get used to him being in my kitchen.
Evie rested her hand on the stainless-steel appliance. She was appalled by her thoughts. And knew she had to say something. “Scott, I—”
“Evie, I—”
Both stopped, both looked, both had something to say. “You go,” she said quickly.
He nodded and placed his elbows on the table. “Okay. Something is happening here.”
She caught her breath. “It is?”
“You know it. Downstairs...and earlier today...it was there again.”
Denial burned on the edge of her tongue. But instead she nodded. She wanted the truth out there. Truth always worked.
“So, what should we do about it?”
Evie’s cheeks burned. “Do? Nothing. It’s just...”
“Attraction,” he finished for her. “Yeah...and it’s powerful, Evie.”
He was attracted to her? Evie could barely contain the emotions and feelings running riot through her entire body. She’d suspected it. She’d certainly felt it herself. But to suddenly know this gorgeous man felt it, too, made her head spin.
She drew in a breath. “We have to keep it in perspective,” she said evenly. “I mean, you’re only here for three weeks. And you’re Callie’s brother. And I’m hardly your type.”
That made him smile. “You know my type?”
“I imagine someone your own age would suit.”
“You’re an ageist?”
“I’m a realist,” she replied, feeling hot all over because she was sure he was laughing at her. “I’m... And you’re... It’s a crazy idea.”
“Probably,” he said quietly. “But sometimes crazy ideas are the most fun.”
Evie skinned burned. “I’m not looking for fun.”
His eyes widened. “What are you looking for?”
“Nothing,” she said flatly. “I have everything I need.”
“Then you’re one of the lucky few.”
“What does that mean?” she asked quickly.
“It means that most of us are looking for something—friendship, success, love, sex.”
Evie swallowed hard. “And you’re looking for sex?” she replied, and couldn’t believe the words were coming out of her mouth.
“As much as the next guy, I suppose.”
It was a fairly relaxed response—when Evie knew there was nothing relaxed about what was happening between them. A fire was building and they were both fanning the flames.
He wants me? My God, I’ve forgotten how it feels to be wanted.
For a second she thought about Gordon. About wanting him. About how good it had felt. And then her thoughts shifted again to Scott and suddenly she didn’t want to think, or make comparisons or imagine for even a moment that what she’d had with her husband could ever be replaced.
“I’m not interested in...” She colored, felt the heat rise up her neck. “I’m not in a position to pursue something that’s... What I’m trying to say is that I’m not interested in casual sex.”
Scott linked his hands together and looked at her with such burning intensity Evie couldn’t drag her gaze away. “Believe me, Evie, if I made love to you, there would be nothing casual about it.”
I’m dreaming this...that’s the only explanation. “But we—”
“But we won’t,” he said decisively. “Yeah, I get that.” He stared directly into her eyes. “I’m not entirely clueless, Evie. I have figured out what kind of woman you are, even if my sister hadn’t pointed out your virtues.”
“Callie said something to you about me?” she asked, mortified, and not quite believing they were having this conversation. Her virtues? How dull and unexciting did that make her sound? “What did she say?”
“Word for word?” he asked, smiling. “That you were likable and generous.”
Definitely dull and unexciting. “Damned with faint praise,” she said, and cradled her mug.
“Not accurate, then?”
Evie laughed. “Oh, I’d say it’s accurate. But it makes me sound old and boring.”
Scott unlinked his hands and leaned back in his chair. “How old are you?” he asked quietly. “Thirty-five? Thirty-six?”
“Six.”
“Which hardly qualifies you for a walker.”
She liked how his words made her feel—liked the slight grin on his face, which teased the edges of his dimple. “I suppose not. But, you know, despite what your sister said about me, I’m not always as nice as people make out.”
“Must be hard living up to the expectations of others.”
Evie looked at him, tilted her head and smiled. “I guess you’d know a bit about that yourself?”
“I would?”
She shrugged and then narrowed her gaze, trying to focus her thoughts into words. “You’re expected to race into burning buildings, climb up trees to rescue kittens and risk your life for people you don’t know simply because of the profession you chose. Sounds like you’ve got the tougher gig.”
“It’s just a job,” he said flatly.
“And you love it?” she asked.
“I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”
“Because you’re addicted to the risks?”
He looked at her a little warily. “Because I took an oath to preserve life and property.”
“Someone else’s life,” she said automatically. “Someone else’s property.”
“You disapprove?” he shot back, sharper, as if she’d hit a button inside him.
Evie took a moment. She took a few steps forward and pulled out a chair. As she sat she considered what she was about to say. She didn’t want to sound irrational—she didn’t want to admit to something and give Scott a window into her fears and thoughts. She’d said too much already.
But suddenly she wanted to say it. She wanted to get it out. The words formed on the edge of her tongue, and before the sensible part of her kicked in, she spoke. “My husband was an Emergency Services volunteer. One night there was a cyclone moving off the coast and he went out to help evacuate the holiday park because the strong winds were overturning trailers and camper vans. He was killed preserving life and property. And I was left to raise our son alone.”
Chapter Four
Scott heard the pain in Evie’s voice, felt it through to the marrow in his bones. It rang in his ears over and over. And his career suddenly loomed like a red flag. Her husband had died serving the community and he knew without a doubt that a firefighter from California didn’t have a chance of being part of her life.
Not that he wanted to get involved...he was just thinking, wondering. And as he looked at her and saw the pain in her green eyes, Scott felt compelled to tell her he was sorry for her loss, but he knew the words would be inadequate.
“You’re angry?” he said, not quite sure where he was going.
She shook her head quickly, as if she knew it was what he’d ask. “It’s difficult to explain. I...sometimes I feel...I feel like...”
“Like what? I’m listening,” Scott assured her when her voice faded.
She met his eyes directly, and his heart knocked behind his ribs. Strange, he thought, watching her, waiting for her to speak. Everything about Evie called out to some kind of inner radar inside him. Despite her outer layer of easygoing friendliness, Scott knew, without being sure how, that she was a complex woman who felt things deeply.
She took a long breath. “I feel like I should have known something was going to happen.”
There was guilt in her words. And Scott knew guilt all too well. “You couldn’t possibly have foreseen the future.”
“I’m not sure. Gordon and I had this connection. It was strong—unbreakable. We always knew when something wasn’t right and when we needed each other.”
His insides heated up. She’d obviously loved her husband deeply. The notion shouldn’t mean anything to him. Strangely, it did. “But?”
She shrugged. “But that night it felt different. The cyclone had been upgraded three times in the twelve hours prior to the evacuation of the holiday park. We were taping windows and clearing the yard of potential flying objects, like garden chairs, when the call out came. He left immediately.”
Scott’s skin prickled. “He left you here alone?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said quickly. “Noah was here. His ex-wife and eldest daughter were away at the time, so he came over to give Gordon a hand preparing for the storm. After Gordon left I went downstairs and sat by the front window, looking out into the dark, listening to the wind and rain.”
“And waiting?” Scott asked, prompting her.
She nodded. “Yes. I waited for hours,” she said quietly. “When he didn’t come home, I knew. I knew before the police arrived. I sensed it. I felt it.” Evie shook her head, as if she were shaking the words out, ridding herself of the memories. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” She sighed heavily. “I haven’t talked about Gordon’s accident for years.”
“Maybe because you’re always the listener?”
She looked surprised by his question. “How did you know that?”
“It’s not hard to figure,” he replied, toying with his cup, wanting to keep her talking because being around her reached a place inside him that suddenly felt a whole lot more powerful than simply physical attraction. “You run this place—it’s the kind of job that makes you the one who gets to listen to the lives of everyone else. And generally people like to talk about themselves.”
“That’s true,” she said. “Do you?”
He shrugged. “Depends on who’s doing the listening.”
“You’ve got my attention,” she said quietly.
Scott looked at her. “And you’ve got mine.”
The air between them changed again, shifting on some kind of invisible and powerful axis. He knew she felt it as much as he did.
“Which kind of brings us back to what we were talking about before,” she said, smiling fractionally, though he sensed the last thing she wanted to do was smile. “I’m thinking we should just keep a lid on whatever is happening.”
Sex was happening, he thought. Or at least the idea of sex. That’s all it was, surely? But she didn’t want it to happen. And he knew it couldn’t happen. “Sure.”
Evie took a deep breath. “Good. We both agree it’s the sensible course of action.”
He bit back a smile. “Very sensible.”
Scott watched her, fascinated, as her skin flushed beneath his gaze. She really was remarkably sexy. There was nothing obvious about Evie Dunn. But she possessed a latent sensuality that brimmed beneath the surface and it had quickly mesmerized him.
“Do something with me tomorrow?”
She stared at him. “Do what?”
“Sailboarding,” he said easily, not sure why he was suggesting it.
She shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly.”
“Why not? Do you already have plans?”
“I’m not exactly the adventurous type.”
“It’s not bungee jumping, Evie. It’s a board, a sail, some wind and a bit of balance. Can you swim?” he asked.
Evie nodded. “Of course.”
“Then you can probably sailboard,” he said, and an idea formed in his head. “I’ll teach you.”
She didn’t bother to conceal her surprise. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Sure it is,” he said easily, and smiled. “I’m on vacation, remember? You don’t want to ruin it by refusing to help me enjoy the sights of your little town, do you?”
“No,” she said after a long, cautious-looking moment. Finally she smiled back. “I guess I don’t.”
“If it makes you feel better, we could get Trevor to come as a chaperone?” he suggested, smiling to himself.
She frowned and he liked the way her nose wrinkled when she worked out he was teasing her. “We hardly need a chaperone,” she said purposely, and her green eyes lit up with a kind of defiance. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
Scott wasn’t sure what the feeling was that pitched in his chest. Relief maybe? The idea of spending time with Evie pleased him. Too much.
They said good-night, lingered over the words for a few moments before Scott left the kitchen and headed to his room. He had a restless night. The time zone difference caught up with him and he spent most of the night lying on his back in the big bed, staring at the ceiling. And he thought about Evie just a few doors away.
He’d planned to go into Bellandale the following morning and hire a car. He needed wheels—and didn’t want to spend every day until the wedding hanging around the B and B like loose change.
He’d come to Crystal Point for his sister’s wedding. Only he hadn’t expected Evie.
Scott tossed in the bed, looked at the digital clock on the small table to his left and pumped the pillow with his fist. I’ve had too much sleep...and too much coffee...and way too much Evie for one evening.
He thumped the pillow again, dropped his head back and closed his eyes.
* * *
Why is there a motorcycle in my driveway?
And not the basic model, either. This was huge and powerful and clearly designed for cruising. Evie grabbed the pair of planet-friendly shopping bags from the passenger seat of her Honda and stared at the big, noisy-looking machine parked in front of her studio. She figured out who the culprit was once she went upstairs and spotted two helmets on the kitchen table and a leather jacket hanging on the back of a chair.

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