It Started At Christmas…. Jo McNally

started to nod, then caught herself. “That’s none of your business.”

      Amanda was getting help. That was good. But Mel was right. It wasn’t his concern.

      Amanda moved, and he and Mel froze, waiting until she settled on her side with a soft sigh, curled up like a child. Her hand lay on top of the blankets. He had the strangest urge to reach over and take her fingers in his, but he suspected Mel would disapprove. Besides, he’d never been much of a hand holder, except with his young nephew.

      “The two of you are close.”

      Mel smiled. “There are actually four cousins all together, and we Lowery women are more like sisters. I just happened to be the closest to Gallant Lake this week, visiting a designer in New York. I thought her plan was so crazy it might just work, but if it didn’t, I wanted to be here for her.” She looked at him. “Did it work?”

      Good question. “Well, she pulled off getting the appointment, but…”

      “She’s good, Blake. You’d be damned lucky to have her.” He glanced at the woman in his bed, and Mel frowned. “As your interior designer, I mean. Did she show you her portfolio? It should be in her bag…” Mel got up and searched through Amanda’s leather bag, pulling out a spiral-bound notebook. “I think her photos of other projects are on her tablet, but here’s her sketchbook.” She handed it to him.

      He opened the notebook absently. Hiring Lowery would be a colossally bad idea. He prided himself on making shrewd business decisions, and she couldn’t possibly handle this… He blinked. He was looking at a drawing of Halcyon. But not the Halcyon he knew. Not even the Halcyon he saw in her original proposal. This Halcyon had life to it. And color. The living room had a sectional sofa facing the fireplace, with a flat screen on the wall. And a gaming console in the far corner. In a castle. Could he really do that? He flipped the page. This was the room that had intrigued him the most about her original proposal—the one he thought came from David Franklin. She wanted to turn the dining room into a huge home office. He’d need that if he ever decided to live here.

      He’d never been one for settling down in one spot, but now that his nephew was going to be a part of his life, maybe it was time. And maybe this was the place. Amanda’s drawings made the old castle look like a home.

       Chapter Three

      Amanda was having the weirdest medieval dream. She was in a massive, heavily carved mahogany bed. The room was large and round, with a marble fireplace. Ribbed cathedral ceilings arched so high that she couldn’t see the top of them in the shadows. Tall windows were set into the walls, framed with heavy damask curtains.

      A wingback chair was pulled up close to the bed, and a man was sitting there with his feet propped up on the mattress, watching silently. But this was no knight of the round table. Unless knights wore jeans and a T-shirt. Black hair curled down over his forehead.

      Blake Randall.

      This was no dream.

      She sat up with a gasp, pulling the blanket with her. Peeking under it, she was relieved to see she was still fully clothed, sans shoes. Blake didn’t react, watching as if he thought she might bolt. And she was seriously considering it. Her memory came back in fragments—collapsing in the living room, being carried up a winding staircase. She couldn’t quite make sense of it all, but she didn’t feel in danger.

      “Where am I?”

      Blake sat up and dropped his feet to the floor. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him. His voice was soft and deep.

      “You’re in my suite at Halcyon.”

      “What time is it?”

      “One o’clock.”

      “Does my cousin know I’m here, Mr. Randall? Does anyone?”

      His mouth quirked into a smile.

      “I didn’t kidnap you. Mel just left to get some lunch.” His smile deepened. “And I think we’ve been through enough together to be on a first-name basis. Call me Blake.”

      “Oh, my God—did you carry me up here?” she all but squeaked.

      “It wasn’t a big deal. There aren’t that many furnished rooms in this place, so this was the logical choice.”

      Dr. Jackson kept telling her she had to deal with the past in order to move on, but they needed to rethink that plan if it was going to lead to impossible situations like this, with her waking up in some stranger’s bed. Blake must think she was some pathetic, weak little creature, and that wasn’t who she was. She wouldn’t let it be.

      “There’s almost smoke coming from your ears from all that worrying you’re doing. Relax.”

      “I should go…”

      “Mel will be back soon. Get some more rest, and after lunch I promise I’ll release you.”

      Her eyes narrowed at those last words, but his smile said he was joking. She settled back against the headboard, doing her best to ignore her burning humiliation and impending homelessness. Back to Kansas. Goodbye career.

      “Hey…” Blake moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?” To her shock, he reached toward her face. She froze. He gently brushed her cheek with his thumb to sweep away a tear she hadn’t realized she’d shed.

      “What’s wrong? I made a fool of myself today. I lied to get an interview with you, and then I had a panic attack in the middle of it. It’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous.” She forced herself to stop talking. If she couldn’t get her emotions under control, she deserved to go home to Mom. Maybe she’d find some nice job in a furniture store selling people plaid sofas.

      “Come on, you had a panic attack. That’s a physical condition that’s out of your control.” His hand dropped to rest on the mattress next to hers. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

      “Clearly, I’m a long way from okay. You’ve been kind, but I’ve taken enough of your time. I need to go.”

      “Stay…” His hand rested on hers, and he stared at it as if he was as surprised as she was.

      They both heard Mel’s footsteps, and quickly pulled their hands away from each other before she walked in. She looked back and forth between the two of them suspiciously before fixing her gaze on Amanda, who was wiping the last of the tears from her face.

      “What happened?”

      “I’m fine.” Amanda’s hands were shaking. She tucked them under her arms and tipped her head toward the box Mel carried. “I’m also starving.”

      Her cousin stared hard at her, then shrugged. “If you’re up to it, there’s plenty of food.”

      They ate together at the kitchen island, Blake and the two women. Mel was staring at him with sharp skepticism. And Amanda wouldn’t look at him at all. He set her sketchbook on the marble counter.

      “I looked at your drawings.”

      Amanda straightened. “You went through my bag? While I was unconscious?”

      Mel started to stammer. “N-no, honey. I did. I wanted him to see your portfolio and the sketchbook was there, so…”

      “Those were just dash-offs, not something I’d ever show to a client, Mel.”

      Blake spoke before Mel could respond.

      “Amanda, you were right this morning. I did like your original proposal. That’s why I set up an appointment with someone who turned out to be you.” He smiled at the flush of