'Twas the Week Before Christmas. Olivia Miles

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СКАЧАТЬ 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. СКАЧАТЬ