'Twas the Week Before Christmas. Olivia Miles

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ