The Heart of Christmas (2 page)

“It’s coming back to me.”

Bits and pieces were coming back to her, too. How she’d noticed him watching her from where he sat alone at the bar. How she’d danced for him in such a seductive manner, reveling in the appreciation she kindled in his eyes. How he’d eventually gotten up and walked over to join her. How he’d danced with her, so cautiously and respectfully even though the sparks between them felt like they were about to burn the place down.

How she’d slipped through the crush of bodies on the dance floor to catch her breath outside and he’d followed....

There were still things she couldn’t recall, however, and his name was one of them. Had he ever told her what it was?

“Who are you?” she asked.

Without even a stretch or a concluding peck on the cheek, he climbed out of bed and started to dress.

At least she wouldn’t have to ask him to leave, she told herself. It looked as if he planned on walking into the sunset—or sunrise since it was early—as soon as possible. But this wasn’t New York or Los Angeles. He couldn’t just hail a taxi. She lived in the Sierra Nevada foothills of Northern California in one of the many mining towns along Highway 49 that had sprung up when gold was discovered a century and a half ago. It was a community that hadn’t changed as much as one might expect in such a modern, technologically advanced world. And if the lack of urban conveniences
in
Whiskey Creek wasn’t enough of an obstacle, she lived several miles
outside
town. There was very little traffic out here and no buses or other public transit.

He’d have a long hike if he intended to make his way back to Whiskey Creek without catching a ride from her.

Or maybe he planned to call someone. He had a cell phone and, for the most part, there was service.

“You won’t answer?” she asked.

“What difference does my name make?” he finally responded.

That set off alarm bells, since one of the other things she couldn’t recall was whether they’d used any birth control. He wasn’t one of those weirdoes who went around purposely infecting people with HIV, was he?

“You don’t want me to know who you are?”

Having donned his boxers, he jammed one leg and then the other into a pair of well-worn jeans. “I don’t see any purpose in exchanging personal information.”

So he’d already decided he wasn’t going to see her again. She hadn’t been entirely sure she wanted to see
him.
He hadn’t been that friendly so far, but she felt a measure of disappointment all the same. She had enjoyed what she could remember of last night—and what she remembered more than anything else was the way he kissed. It was so good, so completely bone-melting, that she grew warm just thinking about it. A man who really knew how to kiss a woman seemed like a nice place to start a love affair.

“What if I need to reach you?” she asked. To tell him he’d given her herpes, for instance.

He lowered his voice. “I’m sorry, but last night...I shouldn’t have let it go the way it did. I knew better and...I wasn’t going to, but...God, you can
dance.
”

“So you do have one nice thing to say....”

“I told you not to take what we were doing seriously, but...I’m sure that’s all forgotten. So I’ll say it again. I’m not interested in a relationship.”

He couldn’t even take her to dinner before calling it quits?

Obviously her luck with men wasn’t improving—even when she opened herself up to a random encounter.

“Why?” she asked. “Are you married?” At this point, his rejection was so unequivocal she almost hoped he was. Then she wouldn’t have to credit it to some failing on her part.

“No.” He didn’t even look over when he responded.

“You have a girlfriend, then?” Jared. She was almost certain he’d said his name was Jared....

“No. I might be a lot of things, but I’ve never been a cheater.”

Great. She must’ve acted like a desperate idiot last night. Or maybe she wasn’t nearly as good at kissing—or other activities—as she was at dancing.

“Was it something
I
did?” Normally, she wouldn’t have asked. It was difficult to lower her pride. But if he was going to brush her off anyway, what could it hurt to learn the reason? Maybe that information would help her know why she couldn’t seem to find Mr. Right.

“No.”

That was it? That was all the feedback he was willing to give her? “You’re far too generous. Thanks for the reassurance.”

He glanced up at her sarcasm. “At least I meant what I said. It’s not you. It has nothing to do with you.”

But he still wasn’t interested.
Why?
“Just tell me we used some protection,
Jared,
” she said. “Then you can take off.”

“Of course we used protection.” He scowled, but she couldn’t tell if that was in reaction to her remembering his name or the nature of her question. “I wouldn’t leave either of us vulnerable to what could happen without it.”

She clutched the sheet tighter. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Condom wrapper’s on the floor. I’ll leave it for you to throw away, if that makes you feel any more secure. And just to reassure you, I’m clean.”

Seeing the wrapper he’d mentioned peeking out from under her nightstand, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Not that you seem worried but...just in case, so am I.”

“What?” He was searching for the rest of his clothes.

“Clean. Well, to be totally honest I’ve never been tested. I wouldn’t even know where to go to get tested. But I’ve only been with three other guys, and one of them was clear back in high school, when we were both virgins.”

He got down to peer under the bed and came up with a missing sock. “Going by what you told me last night, they were all from around here.”

“What difference does that make?”

“This place doesn’t strike me as a hotbed for venereal disease.”

She watched as he sat down and pulled on his hiking-style boots. He stood without lacing them. “Don’t tell me I gave you my whole sexual history,” she said.

“Why? You don’t have much of one. It didn’t take long.”

“Sounds as if I was a bit of a blabbermouth.” That wasn’t appealing. She probably wasn’t experienced enough for him.

“You were trying to explain why you were so hungry for a man.”

There was no judgment or accusation in his tone. It sounded as though he was merely trying to jog her memory. But she didn’t want to be perceived as sexually aggressive. Most people didn’t consider that a positive trait, especially when it was associated with a woman. “I’m sorry if I was too...uninhibited or—or overeager.”

“You were honest about your needs, which is why I thought I could fulfill them. Our exchange was simple. Straightforward. Nothing wrong with that.”

“I’m glad you’re satisfied.”

He reached for his shirt. “You’re not?”

She knew he was referring to the many orgasms he’d given her and changed the subject. “Why are you here? In Whiskey Creek, I mean. What brought you to this area?”

“I wanted a change of pace. Heard it was pretty up this way.”

“So it’s not because of your job.”

“I’m taking some time off.”

She noticed another scar, this one on his back. “Were you in a car accident or something?”

He didn’t seem surprised by the question. She could only assume he heard it every time he bared his upper body. “No.”

“What happened?”

“Shark attack.”

What she saw didn’t look like a shark bite. It looked like he’d been cut by a knife, or maybe he’d been caught in barbed wire. “Really?”

“No.”

For whatever reason, he didn’t want her to know anything about him. “Are you like this with all women—or is it just me?”

He didn’t answer. After shrugging into his shirt, he buttoned it and then paused at the foot of the bed. “Last night was—” he seemed to be putting some effort into choosing the right words “—a welcome diversion. Thank you.”

“And thank
you
for making me feel like a worthless piece of trash you tossed aside.” Those words rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them. She was offended that he wouldn’t even tell her his name, that she’d had to remember it without any help from him, but she could only blame herself for this situation. She was the one who’d extended the invitation. Actually, she’d done more than that. She’d
enticed
him. She’d never acted so wanton in her life.

She thought he’d walk out on her. But he didn’t. As he stood there, staring at her, a muscle moved in his cheek. “Do you ever have any thoughts that
don’t
come out of your mouth?”

She raised her chin to let him know she didn’t care if he approved of her or not. The fact that last night really hadn’t meant anything to him, not even enough that he’d want to have a cup of coffee together, stung and she’d reacted. She wasn’t going to beat herself up over it. “Not often. Why, does my frank approach wound your sensitive nature?”

“Some things are better left unsaid.”

The disappointment and anger he inspired bubbled to the surface again. “If I was as good at feeling nothing as you seem to be, I wouldn’t have any trouble divorcing my mouth from my heart. Maybe not caring is something you get better at with practice.”

“This isn’t my fault,” he said. “You needed an escape last night as badly as I did.”

“Says you.”

As his gaze moved over her, she got the impression he was speculating on whether she needed another escape now. There was a flutter in her stomach, her breath caught in her throat and it seemed as though time stood still. As though...she wasn’t sure what. She didn’t like him, resented how he’d treated her this morning, and yet...the sizzling attraction that had brought them together in the first place hadn’t disappeared. That was suddenly obvious.

The intensity on his face made her think he might return to the bed. But then he reined himself in, hard, and that hungry expression was hidden by a stoic mask. “Just because I don’t say everything you want me to doesn’t mean I feel nothing.”

It took a moment for her to collect herself, but as he started down the hall, she called out, “It’s a long walk to town. And it’s December. Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a ride?”

“No, I’ll make my own way back,” he replied.

2

T
hat was a mistake. Rex McCready knew better than to let himself get involved with a woman like the one he’d just slept with. But last night he’d been craving more than a perfunctory encounter. He’d been hoping to assuage the aching loneliness that plagued him, to finally connect on an emotionally honest and intimate level.

It’d been so long since he’d felt close to anyone. To make matters worse, he’d been traveling from town to town for over a week, which meant he’d spent Thanksgiving in a hotel room, alone. The holidays were always rough, regardless of where he happened to be.

But if he wasn’t careful, he’d drag another innocent party into the mess he’d created. And he couldn’t do that. Four years ago, he’d almost lost the only woman he’d ever loved to the men who were looking for him. Allowing himself to care about someone else merely threw him back into the same situation, a situation that left him vulnerable—and made anyone he cared about vulnerable, too.

Last night he’d acted selfishly and he’d gotten drunk to give himself the excuse. But he had a sneaking suspicion that even without the whiskey, it would’ve been impossible to resist the beautiful woman who’d singled him out at the bar.

Eve. That was her name. He’d heard the waitress who drove them back to her place call her that, and he’d found it as ironic then as he did now. She’d tempted him and he’d fallen, although she wasn’t the kind of woman he should be with. She was far too innocent, too trusting, too conservative in her ideals. She hung on to the people in her life; he could tell that from the little she’d told him.

He glanced back at her bungalow with a regret he didn’t want to feel. If he could’ve stayed a bit longer, made love to her when they were both sober—that would’ve done a lot more to fill the gaping hole inside him. But he was only driving himself crazy by dwelling on what he couldn’t have. He didn’t want to be responsible for bringing danger into anyone’s life—and if he’d learned anything since being released from prison, it was that associating with him could be dangerous.

At least the hours they’d been together had given him a much-needed escape, even if it was far too brief.

A truck came rumbling up from behind. He stuck out his thumb, hoping to catch a ride, but the driver squinted at him through the dirty windshield as if he couldn’t imagine any normal person hitchhiking these back roads in the chilly dawn, and drove on.

So much for people in the country being more trusting than those in the city, Rex thought. In his travels, he’d discovered that it was often the opposite. But he wasn’t worried about having to make the long trek to town on foot. He could travel five miles in an hour. According to his smartphone, Whiskey Creek was 4.1 miles due north. Besides, he enjoyed being in motion. There was a cathartic quality about covering the ground with a quick, purposeful stride. It appeased the restless wanderer inside him who never seemed to be content, never seemed to be comfortable coming to a complete stop. Even when he remained in one place, he found himself jiggling his knee to siphon off excess energy.

But if he didn’t make good time, he’d leave his assistant hanging around the park where he was supposed to meet her, and he didn’t want her to panic, thinking something had happened to him. He’d never had to go into hiding like this before, not since she’d come to work for him, so she was already a little freaked out.

He phoned her at home, hoping he could catch her before she left.

“Marilyn?”

“How’s the prospecting?”

A lot of people came to this area to look for gold in the rivers and streams of the Sierra Nevada foothills. Some did quite well. Although that was ostensibly his reason for choosing this particular spot for his “vacation,” it was too cold in December and he didn’t really know what he was doing. “I tried it once.” And nearly froze his nuts off. “Found nothing. About this morning—”

“I’m glad you called,” she broke in. “I’m running late. My husband left the interior light on in my car, and it wouldn’t start, even after a jump. He’s putting in a new battery.”

She sounded frustrated. She liked coming to work early so she could head home at three-thirty. But the fact that she was behind schedule suited him fine. “No worries, since I can’t make our original meeting time, either.”

“Why not? Is everything okay?”

She knew he wouldn’t have stepped away from the helm of his company, especially in such a hurry, unless he had no choice. She just didn’t know the nature of the threat he faced. Working in personal security for several years, he’d come up against some pretty bad dudes, any one of whom could want to even the score. Marilyn probably assumed he was dealing with a situation like that. But this particular problem was much bigger than anything he’d ever encountered with a client and it stemmed from before he’d started All About Security, Inc. This went all the way back to a time when he’d been a different sort of man.

“It’s fine—for the moment.” He grimaced at the ribbon of road winding through the hills in front of him and blew on his hands to warm them. There was no snow on the ground, but there was plenty of frost. “So when will you get here?”

“That’ll depend on whether or not a new battery does the trick.”

“Fine. Text me when you leave.” Since she was coming from the Bay Area, where his office was located, he’d have two hours from that point.

“I will.”

“Perfect.”

“Are we still meeting in the little park you told me about?” she asked before he could end the call.

“Yes. Right next to the giant gold-panning statue.” He preferred public places in case she’d been followed. That was for her safety
and
his; he didn’t like the idea of someone kicking in the door to his room and shooting him before he could draw his own weapon. Although it wasn’t legal for an ex-con to own a firearm in California, let alone carry concealed, he wasn’t nearly as afraid of the cops as he was of the other side. He disregarded that no-firearms stipulation whenever he felt the situation warranted it. He’d been fighting to preserve his own life so long that he simply did what he had to do.

But, as vulnerable as it made him feel, he didn’t have his gun with him now. He’d certainly known not to take it into a bar. These days a lot of places screened patrons before letting them in and, last night, he’d needed a break badly enough to go unarmed.

“I’m sure I won’t miss it,” she said. “I’ll see you soon.”

He was just putting his phone away when he heard the approach of another vehicle. This one slowed before he could stick out his thumb, and the driver, an old man, leaned across the seat and lowered the window.

“Hey, you need a ride?”

“I do.” Flashing the guy a grateful smile, Rex climbed in.

* * *

“Why didn’t you come to coffee this morning?”

Eve turned to see Cheyenne, her very pregnant best friend, waddle into the small office at the back of the B and B and bend down to put her purse under the desk. Although Cheyenne had cut back on her hours, first when she got married and then when her sister returned to town so she could help out by babysitting her toddler nephew, she still came in four days a week. Her schedule would change again, however, once she had the baby. As much as Eve hated the thought, she would probably have to find a replacement, at least temporarily. She was already working all the hours she could to compensate.

“I woke up late.” She feigned more interest than she really had in the bill-paying process she’d started as soon as she arrived. Ever since her competitor, A Room with a View, opened up down the street, it had been a struggle to remain solvent. But she’d fought long and hard and wasn’t about to give up any time soon. Not only would this B and B one day be her inheritance, it felt like a member of the family. And since her siblings, two brothers, were nearly fifteen years older and had lived in Texas since they both joined the air force, she didn’t feel she had any family members to spare.

“It wasn’t the same without you,” Cheyenne commented.

“Who came?”

“Dylan, of course.”

Chey’s husband had joined them ever since the two started dating.

“Then there were Ted and Sophia,” Chey went on, glossing over those two names as she always did since Eve had dated Ted last Christmas. “Brandon and Olivia, Callie and Levi, Noah and Addy.”

All couples. In the past few years, the dynamic of the whole group had changed.

“Oh, and Presley stopped by,” Cheyenne added. “She was passing out invites to her wedding. I have yours in my purse.”

Eve swiveled her chair around to accept it.
Another
wedding. Presley wasn’t a member of their original clique. She was Cheyenne’s older sister by two years. But that didn’t matter. Eve felt she’d soon be the only single person in Whiskey Creek, other than their friends Kyle and Riley. Thank God neither of them had tied the knot. Actually, Kyle had been married briefly to Noelle, the waitress who’d given her and her mystery lover a ride home last night. And Riley had once been engaged.

Eve hadn’t even gotten
that
close to the altar.

“Where were they?” she asked, setting Presley’s wedding invitation aside. “They’re almost as regular as I am.”

“I don’t know, but we thought it was strange that all three of you didn’t show up.”

All three of you
singles.
Crazy how quickly they’d become the minority....

“I don’t miss often.” Eve was one of the driving forces behind their weekly coffee date. She looked forward to catching up with the people she’d hung out with since forever—although, more and more, visiting with them made her feel she was being left behind. These days, instead of who was seeing whom and what they had planned for next weekend, the conversation revolved around babies and purchasing houses and the ups and downs of marriage.

Eve had nothing to contribute to that.

Still, she would’ve attended but she could all too easily imagine everyone wishing her a happy birthday and asking what she did last night, and she didn’t want to be reminded of it. This evening the whole gang was taking her to San Francisco for dinner, in a limo no less. She preferred to start the celebration fresh, as if she’d never gone to Sexy Sadie’s.

“I’ll see everyone later. I’m sorry I missed out, but...I was feeling pressure to get caught up around here.”

Cheyenne frowned at her. “Is there a problem?”

Was she acting unusual? “No, just the day-to-day stuff,” she said. “You know how tough it is to survive the off-season.”

“But I thought you were feeling encouraged. We’ve been full almost every weekend, and we were full last night, on a Thursday. That’s better than a year ago. Offering afternoon tea has definitely improved our occupancy rate.”

The tea had been Eve’s idea. Besides the boost it gave her business, she enjoyed going to secondhand shops looking for vintage items she could use in unexpected ways. Most recently she’d been collecting old plates and fastening them to various candleholders and other bases to make elegant stacking trays or elevated dishes.

“With luck, word will spread and our tea will really bring in some business when spring hits,” she said. As Cheyenne had mentioned, they’d already noticed a spike. “But we have to get by until then.”

Fortunately, A Room with a View was no longer undercutting her prices. For months after it first opened, the owners—a European couple relatively new to the area—had tried to drive her out of business. They’d finally given up, but she wasn’t under the illusion that they’d backed off out of kindness or compassion. They must not have had deep enough pockets to continue.

Thank God. She couldn’t have hung on much longer. As it was, only the nineteenth-century mystery of Little Mary’s murder, and the rumor that her ghost might be haunting the place, had saved the inn from foreclosure.
Unsolved Mysteries
had come out to film an episode, and the publicity from that had enabled Eve to continue to pay the mortgage.

“How’s Deb getting on with breakfast?” Cheyenne asked.

Hungover and sleep-deprived, Eve hid a yawn. “She was doing okay when I checked on her a few minutes ago.” Fortunately, their “new” cook had been with them for nearly six months, so she was well accustomed to the demands of the job.

Cheyenne’s chair creaked as she settled in. “I can’t remember—what’s on the menu?” She sniffed. “Whatever it is smells great.”

“Ricotta pancakes with lemon curd and fresh raspberries. A fruit and yogurt parfait with handmade granola. Two sausages and fresh-squeezed orange juice.”

“Oh, right.” Cheyenne gave an exasperated laugh at her forgetfulness. She was the one who’d planned this particular meal; she’d chosen the ricotta pancakes last week. “I take it the taste-test went well yesterday?”

“Those pancakes are delicious!”

“I can’t wait to try them.”

Eve glanced at her watch. “Most of our guests signed up for a nine-thirty breakfast. We should go to the kitchen in another twenty minutes or so to help Deb.” They had only seven rooms, but with such a small staff—three of them to cook, handle the food and clean during the day and two people who traded off as night manager and covered for Eve when she was gone—it could be tricky to get everyone served at once.

“Are most of them eating in the dining room?” Chey asked.

“All but 1 and 5.” Room 1 was the smallest. Located at the back of the inn, it overlooked the garden, arbor and hot tub. Room 5 was their wedding suite, or could be turned into one if they had a bride and groom.

“Maybe we should do a sign-up sheet with two slots for each half hour so that the most we’ll ever serve at one time is—”

The buzz of Cheyenne’s phone interrupted. When she looked down at it and fell silent, Eve twisted around to see why.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Kyle texted me.”

“Where was he this morning?”

“He says he had to give Noelle her spousal maintenance.”

Eve froze at the mention of Noelle. She didn’t want Kyle coming into contact with his ex-wife. Not so soon after last night. She was hoping that, with the passage of time, Noelle might forget what she’d witnessed—or forget to say anything about it. “His spousal maintenance isn’t due until the middle of the month. He’s told us that more than once.”