New Year's Resolution: Romance!. Leslie Kelly

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      A brief pause, and then she turned, presumably heading back to her domain. But another movement caught his attention, and he narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to get a better look. Someone was in Mrs. Erwin’s wake. She had a glossy head of espresso-dark hair and wore a sort of robe thing that didn’t detract from a pair of excellent legs dressed in decadent lace.

      “Who was that?” Brianna asked, her voice suspicious. She craned her neck to see where he’d been looking.

      Perhaps that niggle of interest he felt was showing on his face. He wiped it clean. “The caterer.” And someone else. An employee of Mrs. Erwin? No matter, he thought, dismissing the minor mystery. He was trying to smoothly detach from one woman, not get entangled with another.

      It took several more minutes to usher Brianna from the house. She finally ended up throwing her clothes back in her suitcase with ill grace. Chase hunted up a couple of bungee cords to keep the thing together since the latches had broken on its tumble. As he carried the luggage out to the car, he endured her parting shots.

      It wasn’t pleasant, but then it was over.

      As the car disappeared down the drive, he tried to scare up a holiday mood. His guests would arrive soon and they’d expect him to be a genial and entertaining host. But the scene with Brianna lingered in his mind as he climbed the steps to the front door. His gut had let him down, he decided, and that wasn’t good. It should have been talking to him from the beginning with her, sending out warnings on a regular basis.

      Stifling a sigh, he turned the knob and pushed on the paneled wood to let himself into the house. His gaze instantly caught on a pair of lace-wrapped legs climbing the staircase. Their owner’s thick, wavy hair bounced against her shoulder blades with each step. The clean, enticing scent of flowers lingered in the air.

      His gut began clamoring. Follow that one. Find out who she is. See where she’s been all our life.

      Oh, sure. Now it started talking. Which just went to prove the current out-of-whack state of his instincts. With a busy week ahead, this was not the time to be distracted by a pretty pair of legs. Even a stupendous pair of legs, which hers actually were.

      Deliberately turning his mind from that fact, he wheeled left and headed toward the office on the first floor. It was time to go over the guest list and the plans his mother had laid out for the week. His phone vibrated and he pulled it free from his pocket, grinning when he saw the photo his brother-in-law had texted. His new niece, Larissa Larue. Leave it to his sister to come up with such a fanciful name—she took after their mother that way.

      He texted back, A beauty! And she was, even with that scrunched little face and the pink stocking cap pulled down nearly to her nonexistent eyebrows.

      Feeling more upbeat, he settled behind the big desk and pulled up the files he wanted on his laptop. The house party would total twenty-four—no, twenty-three now that Brianna had decamped. Eleven couples and himself. Mrs. Erwin would be in the kitchen every day, ensuring they all were well fed. A handful of servers in her employ would help at the meals. A local cleaning service would send a daily crew to take care of the housekeeping.

      He wondered if Lacey Legs was attached to either the caterer or the cleaners. Would he have the opportunity to see her every day? Would her front be as attractive as her back?

      On a silent groan at his own lack of control, he spun his chair to look out the mullioned windows at the view overlooking the lake. It was nearing dark, but he could still make out the winter blue of the water. At this time of day, it was almost slate-colored, with the fir trees a dark contrast against the white slopes of the surrounding mountains. It never ceased to amaze him that a couple of hours away were LA’s famous beaches and graceful palm trees, while here it was craggy peaks and towering conifers. His mind wandered again. Had Lacey Legs grown up in the mountains?

      All right. Time for a better distraction. Good smells had made their way from the kitchen, and he decided he had very good reasons to check in with Mrs. Erwin. The bar should be set up in the great hall shortly and he could ask her about that, too, though a bartender would do all the heavy lifting once the guests arrived.

      In the kitchen, he found the caterer bustling about, instructing servers in black pants and white shirts about where to find the serving trays. Two of them were young men. The young women had their hair in neat ponytails. None of them wore lace or had that shiny hair that he couldn’t free from his thoughts.

      Mrs. Erwin turned to him. “Is there something you need?”

      “The bar—”

      “George is just getting on it,” she said, pointing to one of the men. George gave him a two-fingered salute.

      “Okay. Great.” He glanced around at the other three young people. “You have enough helpers?”

      “Oh, yes,” the older woman was quick to assure him. “Ruth, Carl and Ellen will handle it just fine.”

      Chase nodded. So Lacey definitely wasn’t part of the waitstaff. So why was she here?

      As if to answer his question, she came through the mudroom and into the kitchen. Well, he assumed it was her, because he could see the legs. The rest of her was obscured by an immense flower arrangement in cool blues and white. Long, thin curling stick things gave it even more drama. Chase leaped forward. “Here, let me get that,” he said, taking it from her grasp.

      The action gave him a view of her face.

      He felt as if he’d been hit in the solar plexus. He stared at her, breathless, until he coughed to get oxygen moving into his lungs again. With a little more effort, he managed a smile. “I’m Chase Bradley.”

      Her face was heart-shaped, and as he watched, pink color infused her cheeks. She had a snub of a nose, thick lashes, a full mouth and eyes the same slate blue as the lake water. “I, um...” Her hands dipped into the pockets of the apron/coat thing she wore over a black dress.

      He smiled at her again. “You’re, um...?” he prompted.

      The color on her face deepened. “Sorry. Ashley Walker. From the florist.”

      “Ah,” he replied, and hefted the flowers. “That’s a surprise.”

      A brief smile flashed over her face, but her gaze danced away from his. “Oh, I guess not.”

      Who knew he could be charmed by shy? “Where should I put this?” he asked.

      “I can take it. Really,” she said.

      “You’ll trip over your toes. It’s bigger than you are.” She was a petite thing, and the hell of it was it only served to make him feel more...protective. Or was that predatory? Bad Chase.

      In an attempt to dial down the attraction, he made his tone brisk. “Why don’t you lead the way? I’ll follow.”

      She did just that. But losing the front view didn’t diminish his interest in her one bit. The tap-tap-tap of her heels on the floor only drew his attention to those incredible gams of hers. The fragrance of the flowers in his nose only made him wonder what she smelled like. He wanted to press his mouth to her throat and breathe her in. He wanted to bury his face in that glossy hair and determine if it was as silky as it looked.

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