'Twas the Week Before Christmas. Olivia Miles

her form-fitting black skirt. Her rich, chestnut brown hair brushed her back, swaying slightly against her narrow shoulders, and he traced his gaze down the length of her long legs as she carried herself silently up the red carpet-lined stairs, careful not to disturb guests who, it seemed, had already turned in for the night.

      “Here we are!” she announced breathlessly, catching his eye. Max noticed how large and round her pupils were in the dim light, how her hazel eyes had darkened to moss, interrupted by flecks of amber. Her cheeks had a slight rosiness to them, and her lips were wide and tinted with the faintest touch of ruby lip gloss.

      “You honestly planned to carry my luggage all this way?” Max grinned and reflexively winked.

      Holly bristled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. For the faintest hint of a second, Max wondered if this was such a good idea, after all.

      As a major retail owner and developer, Max and his team had pinpointed Maple Woods as the ideal location for the next major upscale shopping mall in their portfolio. The demographics were strong, and the location roughly halfway between New York and Boston made a compelling argument. He’d driven through Maple Woods and the four neighboring towns three times each in the last two months, and the thirty acres of land housing The White Barn Inn was the best site.

      He’d come to Maple Woods tonight with his renderings in hand, along with substantial market and financial research to back up his pitch, prepared to meet with the planning board and make an offer to the owner of the inn that couldn’t be beat. He’d assumed the owner would be a retired couple, happy to trade in long, relentless days of serving others for a life of comfort and financial security.

      He had assumed wrong.

      The owner of the inn was this bright, cheerful, drop-dead gorgeous creature. And something told him she wasn’t going to walk away quietly. The owner of the land, on the other hand, could most likely be bought. There was no way Holly could top his offer, and George Miller would have to be a fool to turn down what Max was prepared to offer him.

      Max rolled his luggage to a stop beside an oversize armchair near the far window. Looking around the perfectly appointed room with the white trim and soothing sage-green-painted walls, it was becoming increasingly clear that Holly had invested a lot of time and money into what had probably been a very old home in need of substantial work. The inn could hardly be pulling in enough to make her rich. And that only led to one conclusion.

      She loved this place. She wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

      Unless, Max thought, I manage to convince her otherwise.

      * * *

      Holly’s nerves were getting the better of her. She didn’t know what to talk about with Max—his easy charm and sparkling blue eyes disarmed her—and she rapidly ran through the one subject she knew best. Her inn. “Unfortunately, dinner service has already ended, but I went ahead and had the chef make up a turkey sandwich for you. It’s quite good, I can promise you that. Freshly baked bread and local produce. We use only free-range poultry. We bring in homemade pies daily, and there’s apple on the menu for today if you’d like dessert. If you’d like to go ahead and get settled, I can bring it up to you. Unless...is there anything else you need? Hot tea, perhaps? Cocoa? A glass of wine?”

      Stop rambling!

      Max’s lips twitched but he said nothing. Seemingly entertained by her formal hospitality, his eyes gleamed merrily. Holly had to admit it felt strange to be talking to a guy not that much older than herself in this manner. She wasn’t used to having guests like this; her usual weekly crowd consisted of married couples of all ages looking for a quiet and temporary escape from the hustle and bustle of their hectic city life.

      Standing alone with him in the Green Room, Holly’s eyes were instinctively drawn to the large bed between the two French windows draped in heavy Jacquard fabric. The crisp white duvet was soft and billowy and the feather pillows were plump and inviting. Holly couldn’t help but imagine Max later climbing into this very bed, and she suddenly had a strange longing to curl up into it herself. It had been a long day and Max was a welcome surprise.

      “Nice bed.”

      At the sound of Max’s voice, Holly snapped her gaze to him, her heart skipping a beat at his heated stare. She quickly composed herself, thinking of something to say about the linens or pillows, and then gave up. A look of naked amusement had taken over Max’s blue eyes. His lips curled conspiratorially.

      “A glass of wine sounds great, actually,” Max finally said, casually changing the subject and releasing Holly from her misery. “Am I allowed to go into the lobby to eat, or do I have to stay in my room?”

      Holly took a second to absorb the question, still recovering from her earlier embarrassment, and burst into laughter. Max stood before her in wide-eyed, mock innocence, still bundled in his coat, looking every picture the mischievous school boy just waiting for an opportunity to taunt the teacher.

      She really was acting like a prim headmistress. Knowing the other guests were all tucked in for the night, Holly decided she’d had enough of the uptight pleasantries. It was time to go off duty and enjoy the rest of her evening with something other than a good book for a change.

      And what better way than with this devastating charmer?

      “I’ll allow you to come out of your room if you promise to behave,” she chided. As soon as she saw Max’s surprised reaction, she immediately regretted her words.

      He flashed an openly suggestive smile and his eyes smoldered with interest. “And what happens if I don’t?”

      Rattled, Holly frantically searched for the best way to get the conversation back on track. “Then you’ll go to bed hungry.”

      “I never go to bed hungry,” Max said confidently, a cocky smirk forming at the proclamation. He shrugged out of his coat and flung it on the armchair, his lightweight wool sweater revealing a broad chest and strong arms. “Come on,” he said, motioning to the door. “You’ve made that turkey sandwich sound too good to resist.”

      Descending the stairs single file, Holly was grateful that there was no chance for Max to see her face, which burned with a mixture of pleasure and humiliation. What had gotten into her? She was a proper businesswoman. This inn was her pride and joy. Maintaining utmost professionalism was something she drilled into every member of the staff, and she herself practiced what she preached. Yet here she was positively flirting with her highest paying guest of the night. It was shameful!

      As they neared the last landing, Holly took three deep breaths to compose herself, determined not to give in to her growing attraction for her newest guest. But as her foot reached the ground floor and she turned to face him, her heart disobeyed and lurched with excitement.

      “I’ll just go to the kitchen,” she said tightly. “Why don’t you go ahead and make yourself comfortable in the lobby, and I’ll bring everything over to the coffee table near the fireplace?”

      She turned on her heel and headed to the dining room, which she already knew was empty. Often a guest or two would stay downstairs well into the night, reading a book, or lingering over a glass of wine. But not tonight. Tonight it was just Holly and Max.

      Holly and Max. Has a nice ring to it.

      Just as quickly as the thought formed, Holly pushed it aside. She had to get herself under control. This man was her guest. He was a paying customer in search of hospitality, not a date.

      Max was hot on Holly’s heels. “I’d rather put myself to use and help you, if you don’t mind. Besides, I’ve been sitting for the past five hours. The drive from Manhattan took a lot longer than expected and it would be nice to stretch my legs.”

      Holly’s stomach somersaulted as she led them into the kitchen. He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. Not that she minded. Not in the least.

      “So what brings you to Maple Woods?” she inquired, glancing behind her.

      Max stood in the entry to the kitchen, his