A Dream Christmas. Кэрол Мортимер

here … here it was trees. Trees along the roadway, over the mountains and, beyond that, more trees, with a shocking blue sky streaked with white clouds.

      It was like being thrust into Oz after the black-and-white haze of Kansas.

      The road ended on the mountaintop at a large lodge, constructed of heavy wooden beams and a green sheet metal roof, covered in patches of bright snow.

      “Sold. Can I live here forever?” she asked.

      “There are very few shops,” he said.

      “Online shopping.”

      “Are you still online shopping?” he asked.

      “No,” she said. “Because as someone pointed out, I do have very similar shoes.”

      “You should have brought ski boots.”

      “We’re only going to be here a day.”

      “Yes, and we’re due at breakfast now.”

      “Now? I am in Muk Luks, Luc, as you pointed out.”

      He made a very dismissive French sound that rippled through her, not like the sexy electricity from before, but like annoying, static electricity. “They’ll do fine. You’re in the mountains, after all. And you look as beautiful as ever.”

      Don’t blush. Don’t blush. “You think I’m beautiful?”

      Oh, wow. What in the world was that? How needy could she get? Asking if he thought she was beautiful.

      Though, considering the beating her ego had taken recently … she did feel in need.

      He looked her over, his dark gaze assessing. “Yes. Because you are beautiful, and I can see.”

      “Oh, well. That’s nice.”

      “I am nice.”

      “Pah!”

      Luc got out of the limo and walked around to her side, opening the door for her. “Look,” he said, “nice.”

      “Well, you aren’t horrible.”

      “Damned with faint praise.”

      “I bet that doesn’t happen often.”

      A smile curved his lips. “That depends.”

      “On what?”

      “On whether or not they’re mad that I didn’t stay around for the morning after.”

      “Ah,” she said, getting out of the limo, her head a little swimmy. She really didn’t need to think of Luc in that context. Not so near her … thinking about him in that context. “Well, that has nothing to do with this.”

      “Of course not. Ready for breakfast?”

      “Obviously I expect a Denver omelet.”

      “We’re not in Denver.”

      “But we’re a lot closer than usual. So I assume it will be superior to the New York Denver omelet.”

      “One hopes,” he said.

      They walked across the paved drive and through the front doors into the expansive lobby. An older man dressed in a suit, with black hair that looked as though it might have been dusted in snow, stood there with a woman at his side. She was near his age, Amelia guessed, and perfectly put together in a blue pantsuit that Amelia herself would never be caught dead in, but could respect.

      “Mr. Chevalier.” The man, Don Fleischer, she presumed, extended his hand.

      “Mr. Fleischer,” Luc said, confirming her initial thought. “And this is?”

      “My lovely wife, Anna.”

      “Pleasure,” Luc said, his lips wrapped around the word as if it was decadent chocolate. Why was his voice so sexy?

      Anna Fleischer was not unaffected. And really, who would be? The other woman flushed slightly and extended her hand to shake his. “Very nice to meet you.”

      “I’m very pleased to see you’ve brought your girlfriend—or is that fiancée,” he said, his eyes dropping to her left hand, “with you. I prefer to have something of a family meeting, rather than a true business meeting. And I particularly like it when a man includes his partner in important business affairs.”

      “Naturally,” Luc said, moving nearer to her, his arm sliding around her waist. “I would hardly make such a decision without the woman I love by my side.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      AMELIA STIFFENED, HER EYES widening. “Uh …”

      “You must be starving, Amelia, darling,” Luc said.

      She curled her hand into a fist, feeling conscious of the ring on her finger, the one that had been there for four years. The one she’d spent most of the day considering removing.

      And now it had gotten them into this.

      Though, why Luc was touching her instead of correcting Fleischer she didn’t know.

      She felt as if she’d stepped into an alternate dimension. What was the man going on about? “I did have the scone on the plane.”

      “Just one scone,” he said. “I thought you wanted an omelet.”

      Don laughed. “We do have good omelets. Right this way into the dining area.”

      Amelia and Luc followed, Luc with his arm still wrapped around her waist. He was making her all warm. And it was weird.

      Then when they reached the table he held the chair out for her. She sat, giving him the best and most subtle side eye she could manage.

      The breakfast really was a personal visit, peppered with talks of business. Luc was adept at mainly keeping the personal topics relegated to Don and Anna, and to use those moments to push through to a discussion about the running of the resort. They were moving to be in warmer climates, to be nearer to their grandchildren, but the resort was special to them and wouldn’t it be nice to have another couple interested in taking it over?

      Luc, to his credit, did remind them that he owned many properties, and would likely not personally run things in Aspen. But they were both sold on his charm, so neither seemed to mind.

      Amelia, for her part, mainly sat quietly, shoveling egg, ham and cheese into her mouth. It was a good omelet. That, at least, in this crazy mixed-up world, was a surety. Cheese would never fail her.

      Every once in a while she would nod enthusiastically in agreement with Luc, because that much she knew would be appreciated. That she did as part of her job. The touching stuff, though, was not a part of her job, and every time he brushed his fingers over her knuckles she had to fight the urge to leap up out of her chair and shake the warm fuzzies off her hand.

      She didn’t, though. She sat still. And she was pretty sure she was accomplishing the playing it cool act.

      “Well,” Don said, standing when all the plates were clear. Everyone else at the table followed suit. “I suppose I should let you get to your room.”

      “I … It is no trouble at all to have Amelia put in her own room,” Luc said, stumbling over his English. She’d never heard him do that before.

      Anna laughed. “We’re not that old-fashioned, Mr. Chevalier. We put you in the Aspen Suite. Of course we didn’t realize Amelia was coming, but it is the best room in the lodge.”

      “Faaaabulous,” Amelia said, heat rising in her cheeks and other … places.

      “Everything was taken up already,” Don said.

      “Oh, very kind of you,” Luc said,