The Christmas Inn. Stella MacLean

      Amanda passed her an antique key embossed with a coat of arms. “I hope you have a wonderful stay with us, and if there’s anything any member of the staff can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll show you to your room.”

      “That’s not necessary. I’ll get my suitcase and go up by myself. Room number 311, right?”

      “Yes. If you’d like someone to park your car for you…”

      “That would be nice.” Oh, she could get used to this sort of luxury very quickly. She imagined the spa and what treats awaited her there. She intended to indulge in all of them.

      Amanda pulled the long velvet pull cord hanging at the back of the desk area and a bell tolled somewhere deep inside the building. “Again, please enjoy your stay, and let one of the staff know if you need anything.”

      Marnie got her bag from her car, gave her keys to a young man who was waiting outside for her and then headed up the stairs to the third floor. The wide-angled staircase, carpeted in heavy paisley-patterned carpet, led to a much narrower stairway leading to the third floor. Reaching the top of the stairs, she faced a narrow corridor with a tall window at the far end. Her key clutched in her hand, she huffed along down the hall, dragging her suitcase until she found her room. Unlocking the door, she discovered a narrow room made even narrower by the slope of the roof.

      Although the room was small, it was a decorator’s dream. The double bed, bracketed by two brass lamps, was covered with a heavy brocade bedspread in shades of cream and gold. The walls were covered in antique fleur-de-lis wallpaper, and the carpet beneath her feet was a rich shade of blue, and so thick she nearly stumbled on it.

      She put her suitcase down on the luggage rack at the foot of the bed, catching a glimpse of the tiny bathroom as she did so. But neither the size of the room nor the bathroom mattered as she kicked off her boots, pulled back the bedspread and sank onto the mattress, her head coming to rest on a pillow that felt like a cloud. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered that one of the questionnaire sections related to the comfort of the bed, and she’d be sure to give the inn a perfect rating on that feature.

      But it had been a long drive and she needed a short nap before dinner....

      * * *

      LUKE SAT AT his desk, staring at Marnie McLaughlan’s reservation. It was made out to a Mr. and Mrs. Scott McLaughlan, and yet she’d shown up here alone…and no wedding ring. Where was Mr. McLaughlan? Amanda said he’d been very friendly and so disappointed when she didn’t have a vacancy that she’d felt sorry for him, and offered him the room on the top floor. But why hadn’t he arrived with her if he was so anxious to come here? His wife hadn’t made any mention of him or when he’d be joining her.

      It didn’t make sense. He tapped the desk, his mind running over the possibilities.

      His concerns aside, he’d been surprised to find Ethan hanging off the woman’s leg when he got to the front of the house, but she seemed to take it in stride. What could have been an embarrassing situation had turned into a pleasant interlude with a beautiful woman. And with her heart-shaped face framed by short, dark curls and her well-toned body, Marnie McLaughlan was gorgeous and sexy....

      Her husband probably planned to arrive later, a simple enough explanation, and he hadn’t offered her much opportunity to explain why they hadn’t arrived together. He’d simply find a diplomatic way to learn when her husband was going to join her, because otherwise, a woman alone meant problems from seating arrangements in the dining room to any activities planned for the next few days. Married couples, especially the wives, came to this event because they wanted to escape and spend time with their husbands. It was essential that there be no disruptions this year—and a woman as beautiful as Marnie McLaughlan could prove to be a serious disruption.

      He was still distracted by the problem of Marnie when Jack Fowler, the bartender, appeared at the door. “You look awful, my friend. What’s up?”

      “We’ve got a single female guest for the next three days, unless her husband decides to join her.” He picked up the reservation, and noted down Scott McLaughlan’s number. “And we have thirty couples who’ve registered for the Christmas Getaway event, most of them arriving tomorrow. I wanted this thing to go off without a hitch. I’d like to really promote it next year and maybe build a little momentum around our programming for the winter months. The last thing I need is a beautiful woman making the wives feel on edge or jealous.”

      “I hope she’s not one of those women who likes to hang out at the bar. The last one of those just left yesterday and I’m exhausted,” Jack grumbled.

      Luke knew what he meant. Although the bar was popular with the guests because of Jack’s charm, in addition to the quality and variety of the liquor offerings, no one appreciated a guest wanting to spend the night getting drunk. In Jack’s case, he had another reason for wanting to see his guests leave the bar at a reasonable hour. His wife, Lindsay, was expecting their first child and was anxious about the delivery, especially with respect to getting to the hospital on time. Jack didn’t like leaving her alone and had worked mostly day shifts until this week.

      “I don’t know anything about her except that the reservation was for two, and here she is, all checked in and ready to enjoy her stay…alone. Her husband insisted that the small room was fine for them. I can’t shake the feeling that something else is going on here.” Restless, he picked up a steel pen, one his parents had given him years ago.

      “I assume she’s beautiful.”

      “That, too.”

      “I take it you tried to convince her to reconsider?”

      “I suggested the Chancellor but she refused. It seems she’s very interested in our spa.”

      “Well, then I wouldn’t worry. Her husband will probably show up,” Jack said, rubbing his hands through his short-cropped brown hair. “Maybe she and her husband had a fight, and she decided to come on her own, hoping he’d follow her and they could have great makeup sex.”

      Luke groaned. “I don’t need that—her deciding to cry on one of the other husbands’ shoulders when hers doesn’t show, and we end up with an argument, or worse still, the couple leaves. Not the image I want to portray.”

      “You know there is something you could do if you’re worried about the other guests.”

      “What’s that?”

      “Until the other guests arrive, I don’t see a problem. But if her husband isn’t here by tomorrow night for the dinner that launches the Christmas Getaway event, you could invite her to be your guest. That way you’ll be able to keep an eye on her.”

      “And if she doesn’t want to be my guest?”

      Jack shrugged. “She won’t object. Half the women I serve at the bar ask me about you. Married or not. They’re all interested.”

      He hadn’t dated anyone since Anna died. There was simply too much to deal with between raising Ethan and running the inn. And if he were to be perfectly honest, a new relationship with a woman would mean he’d have to face his feelings around Anna’s death, feelings of anger over her unwillingness to listen to his warning about the road conditions, all the emptiness of having been left alone.

      Yet, meeting Marnie had sparked something. He was attracted to her, and he didn’t want to be. First, she was married, and second, he didn’t want to care for someone when caring could lead to so much hurt. “That might work for tomorrow,” he conceded.

      “Her husband will probably arrive tomorrow, anyway.”

      “Then why didn’t she say so?”

      Jack shook his head. “Did you ask?”

      “No.” He sighed. “I should have.”

      “My advice? Leave it for tonight, and deal with it tomorrow.”

      * * *

      MARNIE