The Christmas Inn. Stella MacLean

of a dress code, but the photos of the dining room are pretty classy,” she said, worrying that she might not have the right clothes. So much of her wardrobe involved casual pants and tops for work, or jeans.

      “You’ll be fine.”

      “I want to look good, but not draw attention to myself. It would make my job a whole lot more difficult if people began to notice me. If they started paying attention to me they might wonder why I was checking things out.”

      “You wouldn’t be that obvious.” Julie got up again and sauntered over to the chair next to the window. “So, how does this mystery-guest thing work?”

      “Scott made the reservation for me and guaranteed it with his credit card. All I have to do is show up, enjoy every service the inn has to offer and fill out a bunch of questionnaires. That’s it.”

      “Sounds simple enough. Hope it doesn’t snow too much while you’re there. You might not make it home for Christmas.”

      “Christmas is the last thing on my mind.” Marnie bundled her curling iron, makeup and hair products into a bag and packed them in her suitcase. She gave the room a quick once-over. “Well, I guess that pretty well does it.”

      Julie peered over the edge of the suitcase. “Underwear?”

      “Oh, yeah.” Marnie scooped her undergarments out of her dresser drawers, dropping her pink bustier onto the floor in her haste.

      “Wow! Are you up to something on the man front without telling me? Planning on meeting a hunky skier, perhaps?”

      “You never know. I’m going to pamper myself, and if there’s an available male, you just never know what might happen. I haven’t had a decent date in months, and now that I won’t be logging tons of time at the salon, a decent date just went to number one on my list of priorities.” She stuffed the bustier and the rest of her underwear in her suitcase and closed the zipper.

      “Well, here’s hoping that none of the guys you meet up there in the Berkshires bear the faintest resemblance to Mario.” Julie arched her eyebrows in warning.

      “So I’m lousy at picking men.”

      “No, you’ve got to stop letting them pick you. There’s a difference. As I’ve said before you’ve got to be assertive and pick the best apple from the dating tree, not the duds.”

      Marnie smiled out of the corner of her mouth and reached her arms out to her friend. “Wish me luck on all fronts.”

      “Absolutely.” Julie jumped up, towering over Marnie as she hugged her. “Call me as soon as you have a free minute and let me know what the man situation is like. I might take a couple of days off from the delightful repartee with Gina the Hun and join you so I can look for a mountain man of my own.”

      * * *

      LONG HOURS LATER AND NEARLY out of gas, Marnie crested a hill, following the road as it trailed along a stream that wound through the countryside like a velvet scarf. To the right, in the middle of a sweep of land framed by pine trees, she spotted a sign in navy blue edged with gold announcing The Mirabel Inn. Beyond the sign, a long driveway led up a gentle slope to the inn.

      Marnie had never seen anything quite so beautiful and majestic in her whole life. She pulled to a stop on the side of the road, captivated by the sight. Two large wings extended back from either side of the inn’s front entranceway and peaked roofs accented the elegant structure sparkling in the afternoon sun. The Mirabel Inn looked like something out of a fairy tale. Its generous expanse of windows glittered in the light and the wide verandas wrapped around two sides. The eaves adorned with intricately carved wood emphasized the inn’s Victorian feel.

      Her research revealed that The Mirabel Inn had once been the private residence of a lumber baron who owned most of the land in this part of the valley. It stood as a magnificent testimonial to his wealth and position in the community during the early years of development in this area of the state.

      When Marnie was a child, she’d dreamed of living in just such a place, a dream that was immediately tempered by the reality that only the very rich could afford a house like this. But she could still dream, and she now had days to experience what living in a house like this would be like.

      She started along the winding drive leading to the entrance with its tall white columns framing a beautiful front door, festooned with the largest Christmas wreath she’d ever seen, and set off by inlaid glass panes on either side of the door. She passed a towering fir tree, whose brightly colored Christmas lights added to the ambience, before entering a section of the driveway flanked by sprawling rock gardens. She could only imagine the types of flowering plants and shrubs that the gardens would hold in the summer. At the moment they were mulched and ready for winter, the bark chips peeking through a light blanket of snow.

      Why would Scott’s client want a mystery guest to assess this inn? There wasn’t a shingle missing off the roof, or a bit of peeling paint anywhere to be seen.

      But Marnie’s only concern was getting a few questionnaires filled out while she relaxed by the fireplace in her room with a hot toddy. Add to that a soaker tub where she could soothe her sore muscles after a nice hike along some of the trails she’d read about in the brochure. Absolute heaven.

      She parked in front of the door and got out. Clutching Scott’s emailed directions along with her confirmation number, she slung her purse over her shoulder, and crossed the stone driveway toward the entrance. Her hand was on the huge brass doorknob when a little boy raced around the corner of the inn toward her, screaming in excitement as he grabbed the back of her jacket. A small dog that resembled a barrel with legs circled her, its fervent bark adding to the pandemonium.

      “Ethan, come back here!” a man, following in pursuit of the child, yelled.

      Marnie looked down into the bluest, roundest eyes she’d ever seen, and couldn’t help smiling. The child had what looked like tomato sauce on his cheeks and a grin that made him impossible to resist. “Well, hello there,” she said, kneeling down.

      “Sorry,” the man said, coming to a stop in front of her. “My son believes this inn is his private play area, and he’s a little too young to get the message that not everyone who arrives here wants to play with him.” He gathered the boy in his arms.

      “And I take it the dog has the same idea,” she said, still kneeling as she patted the animal, which immediately lay down, rolled over and offered his belly for a rub. “What’s his name?”

      “Henry. He adopted us a year ago.” The man’s smile reached into an untapped part of her heart, creating a sense of longing so unfamiliar it stole her breath, followed by the sensation that they’d met before. But they hadn’t. She would have remembered a man who looked this good.

      Trying to regain her composure, she focused her attention on the little boy. “He’s so cute,” she said, groaning inwardly at her use of such a cliché, but surely she could be forgiven for being so predictable. The man was beyond handsome. Sure, there were lots of movie stars who looked good—thanks to special lighting and camera work—but this man was every woman’s dream personified. He was tall, taller than any of her brothers, and he appeared very at ease with himself. His jet-black hair and sea-green eyes—haunted eyes—completed the package.

      Get a grip! He’s got a son. And he’s probably married.

      But Marnie couldn’t help marveling at her luck. First, the most beautiful place she’d ever seen was to be her home for the next few days, and now this…

      “Can I help you?” the man asked, giving her the full benefit of his sexy smile as he hoisted his son onto his shoulders, much to the delight of the child, who promptly clutched his father’s forehead and grinned down at Marnie.

      “I’m expected. I have a reservation.”

      His eyes darkened, and the smile faded from his face as he glanced at her car and back at her. “You have a reservation here?”

      “Yes.” She held out