The Christmas Inn. Stella MacLean

your…husband, I mean your spouse…partner…here?” Consternation knit his brows together.

      Marnie didn’t know how to respond to such an outrageous question. All she wanted was to check in and relax before dinner. “Do you have to have a husband to stay here?” she asked in her you’ve-got-to-be-kidding tone.

      Hesitating, he gently tugged on his son’s legs. “No. No, of course not. At least most of the time you don’t. But as of tomorrow night, the inn will be filled with couples. It’s our Christmas Getaway event and it’s meant for couples wanting to enjoy the romantic holiday away from all the stress of Christmas preparations. I’m sure the person doing the reservation would’ve told you that.”

      She couldn’t stay here because she was single? Was this covered in the Constitution? It had to be. She had a valid reservation because her brother wouldn’t make that kind of mistake. But why was she wasting time talking to someone who was clearly a lot more handsome than he was gracious?

      “Look, I drove all the way up here. I have a reservation and I’m going to check in.” With that, she opened the door and strode into the lobby. Immediately, Henry jumped up and ambled in behind her, his nails clicking on the hardwood flooring.

      Under different circumstances she would’ve stopped to admire the fabulous Christmas tree filling the main hall with the scent of balsam and outdoors, but she had to determine if her brother had made a mistake. If there’d been some mistake with the reservation, she’d be forced to return to Boston. If that was the case, surely they could help her find a place to stay somewhere in the vicinity as she was too tired to drive any farther. She walked to the desk off along one wall and rang the antique bell resting on the gleaming mahogany.

      A woman appeared, dressed in a classy black dress, a smile warming her angular features. “How may I help you?” she asked.

      “I’m here to check in. My name is Marnie McLaughlan, and I have a reservation.”

      A frown knitted the woman’s perfectly tweezed eyebrows as she scanned a printout. “Could you wait just a minute?” she asked before disappearing into an office down the hall.

      The man she’d met outside came in with his son, his expression neutral as he edged past her and went into the same office. Henry promptly settled in behind the reception desk, his chocolate-brown eyes pensive.

      Was everyone in this place either frowning or looking far too serious for such a lovely day? What was the problem with them? She was here, and all she wanted was a pleasant room with a soft bed and a deep tub.

      She’d gone over the questionnaires before she left Boston, and there was a section covering the reception desk. She’d be sure to give them a failing grade on how they received guests. Only the little boy and the dog had shown her any true courteousness so far.

      She resisted the urge to tap her foot as she gazed up at the vaulted ceiling with its dark wood and hanging brass light fixtures. No wonder Advantage Corporation wanted this place checked out. No hotel employee should be this unpleasant with a paying guest, regardless of what plans had been made for activities at the inn.

      She was left to twiddle her thumbs for a few minutes longer, and then the man reappeared without the child, the woman trailing behind him. His smile was back on his face.

      “I’m Luke Harrison, manager of The Mirabel Inn.” He held out his hand, a welcoming smile on his face.

      Now, that’s more like it.

      The warmth and the firmness of his touch drew her in despite his recent behavior. So this was the manager of The Mirabel Inn. His penetrating gaze could prove dangerous should he have reason to believe that she was anything other than a paying guest. The last thing she needed was for him to suspect that she was doing a private assessment of his operations. It would probably be a good idea not to press him over his preoccupation about her traveling alone. The less involvement she had with the man over the next few days, the better.

      “It seems we’ve made a mistake. You’re right, you do have a reservation, but I’m afraid the only room available is on the third floor. Unfortunately, it’s very small and the bathroom doesn’t have a Jacuzzi tub. It is not up to the standards of the other rooms here and is seldom used.”

      “Does it have internet access?” she asked.

      “It does, but only because it’s about to be converted to an office.”

      “Well, as long as it has a bathroom—”

      “We’re sorry about this situation. We don’t normally rent that room. If you’d like, we can call another inn just a couple of miles down the road. The Chancellor is very intimate and offers the best of everything, including a four-star dining room. They have a vacancy, and we’d be more than happy to compensate you for our mistake.”

      Obviously she preferred a full-size room to what sounded like a broom closet with a bathroom. But she didn’t have a choice. She had to stay at The Mirabel Inn. Still, she could indulge her curiosity. “Does the Chancellor have a spa?”

      “No, it doesn’t. Was our spa part of your reason for choosing The Mirabel Inn?” he asked, pleasure lighting his handsome features.

      He was clearly proud of his spa. “Yes, it was.”

      “That’s really too bad. But this is a very popular season of the year, and we’d like you to have the best experience possible during your stay at our inn. We could, of course, offer you a certificate toward booking another time. We would be pleased to provide the Ambassador Suite, should you decide you prefer the accommodations of the Chancellor Inn for this visit, and then return for another visit here.” His eyebrows lifted, his parted lips showing off his perfectly straight teeth.

      She wished she could agree to his offer—the chance to see him a second time adding to the appeal—but there was her brother to consider. “No, I prefer to stay here. I’ve read so much about your inn.”

      He nodded slowly. “Then welcome to The Mirabel Inn. I do hope you have a pleasant experience here with us,” he said, giving her a forced smile before turning on his heel and marching out of the lobby. Henry issued a mammoth dog sigh as he followed the man down the hallway.

      The woman in the black dress stepped forward. “I’m sorry about this. You are travelling alone, correct?”

      Marnie stared at the woman in disbelief as she yanked her cell phone out of her purse. The minute she got to her room she would get Scott on the line and have him deal with these people. With the way they were acting toward her, she’d happily get back in the car, find a gas station and get out of here. “What is the big deal?” she muttered.

      The woman started to say something, then thought better of it.

      Marnie leaned closer to read the woman’s name badge. “Amanda Buckland, is that correct?”

      “Yes…”

      “Mr. Harrison didn’t seem very pleased when I refused his offer to switch inns.”

      The woman passed Marnie a form for her signature. “Mr. Harrison is anxious that each guest have the best possible experience while staying at The Mirabel. He’s simply concerned for you. Starting tomorrow, the only guests here will be couples.”

      An inn full of romantic couples—just her rotten luck. But there was the spa, and hiking and good food, and a timeout for her. “Not to worry. I understand. I’ll be as quiet and discreet as possible. I won’t interfere with your special Christmas event.”

      “We have a large clientele who come here for pampering and socializing with other guests. Our manager simply wants each guest to enjoy his or her experience with us.” Amanda pursed her flawlessly painted lips.

      “I understand.” In truth, as gorgeous as Mr. Harrison might be, what the manager of this inn wanted came in last on her list of priorities.

      “Mr. Harrison is a lovely man and a great manager. Everyone here at The Mirabel likes him, and of course Ethan