by Renee Roszel
His brows dipped, and she could see deep disapproval in his expression.
She wrung her hands. “Please?”
His continued silence made her want to scream. At her wits end, she promised, “I’ll take in what’s left of the string of lights. They can have it checked out. If they find anything suspicious...” She shrugged again. “Then, of course I’ll let my family know.
He watched her for an endless moment, his gaze searching. Finally he nodded. “Report it. Take in the lights. I doubt if there’s enough left to tell much, but at least they’ll know.”
“Promise you won’t say anything to my family.”
When Alex opened his mouth to speak, she gave him a look that was meant to be murderous, but she feared all she could muster was despair.
“Hell...” Reluctance hardened his tone. “Okay, I won’t say anything—yet. But I think you’re wrong to put it off.”
“You know what I think of your opinion,” she said, trying to regain the emotional distance she needed.
His expression harsh, he looked away. Elissa watched with grim fascination as he battled to keep his temper. When he snagged her gaze again, he shook his head. “Dammit, Elissa, you’re one tough woman. Sometimes I want to strangle you and sometimes—” He stopped, the cynical quirk of his lips telegraphing frustration. “Forget it. You don’t give a damn about my opinion.”
“You’re learning.” She was lying when she said his opinion didn’t mean anything to her. He’d called her tough, and suddenly she was tough—stronger, somehow. It was an odd reaction to a few grumbled words, but right now she’d take anything she could get.
Feeling more capable than she had in days, she made a haughty exit, heading off to get herself a cup of coffee.
“When are you going to town?” he asked.
She closed her eyes, counting to ten. “As soon as I have breakfast—mother.”
“Would you like me to go with you?”
She spun around, her glower locking with his in open warfare. “Do I look like I want you to go?”
His crooked grin told her he’d received her go-to-hell message. “On second thought...” He lifted his hands in a resigned gesture, and took a step backward. “I think I’ll just gather up what’s left of that string of lights and put it in your car for you.”
Elissa was back from Branson before the rest of her family was up and around. She breathed a sigh of relief about that. Though the officer she spoke with seemed receptive, he didn’t leap over his desk and force her into protective custody. He had taken her report and the lights, acted attentive and said it would be looked into.
She was thankful everybody wasn’t as much of an alarmist as Alex. He’d almost had her believing the arson foolishness for a while. Well, she’d held up her end of the bargain and told the police. They’d admitted making no headway with the letters, and at least a dozen of her old clients hadn’t been located, yet. So the case was still wide-open. Any one of them could be lurking in the area. With hundreds of tourists coming and going every day, finding the letter-writer among them—without any further leads than they had—was close to impossible.
As for the string of lights—thousands of fires were caused by defective Christmas lights every year. From the look she saw in the sergeant’s eyes, she was sure he felt this was another accident. Oh, he would follow up and do whatever had to be done, but she doubted if it would give them any clues. So, basically, nothing had changed. It was still a waiting game.
Snow began to fall at ten o’clock that morning, a peaceful sight. Elissa only wished her emotions were up to enjoying the beauty of the winter wonderland. Unfortunately too many problems were preying on her mind to give her room for serene contemplation of the miracle of a snowflake.
The continued frigid temperature kept work from being done on Alex’s mansion, which had no heat due to reconstruction. That shouldn’t be her problem, but it was. For it meant that he would remain underfoot at the inn. All day long.
On the plus side, the last guest had checked out, everyone going home for New Year’s Eve. This was the first time since Elissa had opened the inn that she had no guests on New Years. She had to admit, if only to herself, that she was grateful. This year she needed to be able to enjoy the celebration with her family, unencumbered by the needs of strangers. Of course, Alex D’Amour would be there—unless she received happy news from Dr. Grayson, tomorrow. She crossed her fingers that she would.
At one o’clock, she retired to her room for a power nap and slept for two hours. Stretching, she got up, refreshed. She attempted to reach Dr. Grayson, but could do no more than leave a message on his voice mail.
She tried to read good news into the fact that he was out—and that he hadn’t called her back. She couldn’t. Yet, she couldn’t read bad news into it, either. Thinking about it would only drive her crazy. She forced it from her mind, telling herself that her fate couldn’t be in more capable hands than Dr. Grayson’s.
On her way upstairs, she heard Helen call her name.
“What?” she asked, bounding to the top step.
“You’re up at last. We’ve been waiting.”
Rounding the comer into the kitchen, she saw Helen, Damien and Alex sitting around the table, steamy cups of coffee in their hands. She could smell dinner in the oven—a roast Bella had put on to cook before she’d left for the day.
Damien smiled at Elissa. “You look rested.” He scanned her, a wave of dark hair slipping down over his forehead. He was such a handsome man, and so dear, she didn’t even notice his scars any longer. When his glance met hers again, he said, “Run back down to your room and put on jeans. We’re going sledding.”
“We are?” Foreboding slithered along Elissa’s spine. She hoped by “we” they meant she, Helen and Damien, but she had a feeling Alex’s presence was a bad sign.
“It’s so lovely out.” Helen flung an arm toward the window. “With the snow coming down and all. It’s perfect.”
Elissa’s glance skittered to Alex, who was watching her, his lips lifted sensuously at each comer. The expression was not so much one of amusement, but more an inquiry. He knew how badly she wanted to avoid his company, and watching her attempt to squirm out of it seemed to intrigue him.
“Now, hurry.” Helen made shooing motions. “We’ve waited an hour for you, already.”
“You shouldn’t have bothered,” Elissa mumbled, her brain going foggy. Why couldn’t she come up with any excuse not to go? She was usually pretty quick-witted in situations like this.
She was at a disadvantage, though, since they already knew the place had no guests and that she’d taken a nap. They knew if she said no it would be because she didn’t want to spend time with them. And that wasn’t true. She’d love to go, if it were only Helen and Damien.
A thought sprang to her mind. “What about the twins?”
“Lucy and Jack are going to baby-sit,” Helen said, taking a sip of her coffee.
Elissa cringed inwardly. Of course. In Lucy’s condition, she wouldn’t want to go speeding down bumpy hills on a sled. “Oh...”
“You need to get out and have a little fun,” Alex coaxed, and she had a feeling he meant it.
There was a great deal of truth to his statement. It would ease her nerves to get some exercise. She glanced out the kitchen window. The woods beyond the house were picture-perfect, with big flakes fluttering down all around. It looked like a Christmas card. Elissa faced the fact that she desperately needed to loosen up—have some fun—or she would explode into a million schizoid pieces.
With a decisive nod, she hurried down the stairs and changed into sledding clothes.
It turned out to be a good thing Alex came along, since the best sledding hill was on his property. Elissa was having a great time, even though Damien and Helen shared one sled and Alex and she shared the other. She’d insisted on taking turns with him, sliding down one at a time, even though Helen and Damien doubled up.
Elissa trudged back up the hill
after her turn to find Alex standing alone at the crest of the hill. He lounged against an ancient oak.
“Hi.” He lifted a gloved hand in a casual salute.
“Hi, yourself.” She grinned, feeling too good to growl. Sledding had been exactly what she’d needed. She felt wholly alive for the first time in ages. Turning toward the slope, she scanned the nearby wood. Between the uppermost branches, she could make out two of the chimneys of the D’Amour mansion. Off to her left she could see the peaked roof of her Victorian inn. “It’s nice here,” she murmured. “I’ve never walked this far onto your property in the winter before.”
He didn’t respond, so she turned. He was idling there, his arms loosely folded across his chest as he watched her. His gaze was so intense, she lost her smile. Feeling embarrassed, and not sure why, she turned away.
“How’d it go with the police?” he asked.
She grew rigid, refusing to face him. “I imagine by now they’re firmly convinced that I’m an hysterical female—seeing bogeymen behind every tree.” She peered at him. “Thanks to you.”
“I should have gone with you.”
“No you shouldn’t,” she retorted. “I don’t need a man’s validation. As far as the letters go, the investigation is ongoing.” She averted her gaze. “Could we talk about something else? We’ve wasted enough time on your desperado theory.”
“Look, Elissa—”
“Where are Damien and Helen?” she interrupted, yanking her knit cap further down over her ears.
“Okay, okay,” he said. “If that’s the way you want it. Damien and Helen headed off down the other side.”
Glancing around, she noticed the sled tracks. “Oh?” She retrieved the pull rope on her sled. “Good idea. Maybe it’s time to find another hill.”
She tromped in the direction of the tracks, but as she passed Alex, he grasped the rope, halting her progress. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
She peered at him, confused.
“I think they’re—” he lifted a meaningful brow “—busy.”
Her bewilderment vanished at his explicit tone. Visions of Damien and Helen, making wild love somewhere beyond the line of trees, sprang into her mind. “Oh, that’s crazy. They wouldn’t go off and...” The sentence trailed away. The idea of discussing sex with this man disturbed her.
He shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “I’ve heard it happens.”
Elissa sensed that Alex was right, and she could feel her cheeks go hot. Helen and Damien were so in love she might as well accept the obvious. They were melting snow somewhere in the woods, making impetuous love. She didn’t realize she’d let her gaze drop until she felt a tug on the rope to regain her attention. “I have a feeling you’re going to have a lot of nieces and nephews.”
When she met his gaze again, she was struck by what she saw. His eyes were glinting with pure, masculine interest. Suddenly, out there in the cold beauty of an Ozark winter, she became overwhelmingly aware of his rugged, manly appeal. He wore no hat, and glittering snow spangled his dark hair. His long legs, all sinewy muscle, were crossed at the ankle, and seemed to go on and on.
For so long, her attention had been focused on her inn, why did her repressed libido have to come to life now? She feared if she didn’t watch her step, she and Alex D’Amour would do a little snow melting of their own.
No! her mind screamed, as she tried to get back on track. Sucking in a frigid breath of air, she tugged the rope from his hands. “I’m—I’m tired of sledding. Let’s go back.”
“Okay.”
His capitulation was so offhand she grew suspicious and scanned his face to gauge his expression. He looked perfectly at ease. Why she’d expected an argument she didn’t know.
“But since the inn’s downhill, we might as well go by sled.”
We? There was that dastardly word, again. Now she understood why he’d been so contented with the idea. She faced him, thrusting the sled’s rope at him. “I’ll walk back. You can sled.”
He didn’t reach for it, but merely smiled. “What are you afraid of, Miss Crosby? It’s a sled, not a motel room.”
She swallowed, going wooden. Her arm remained stuck out toward him. She couldn’t seem to move, and wondered if some evil forest spirit had turned her into a hitching post.
He took the rope from her fingers. “You get down on the sled and I’ll lie on top of you.”
When his suggestion soaked in, she did a double-take. “An alien spaceship will beam me up before that happens.”
He chuckled. “Or, you can be on top.”
Her face was flaming. Even with an IQ of a table lamp, nobody could miss the sexual innuendo in that remark. She planted her hands on her hips, eyeing him with disdain. Unfortunately some unruly beast inside her was giving her fits, trying to get her mouth to say “yes.” She struggled with it, valiantly forming a biting, negative response that under no circumstances could be mistaken for, “Okay...”
She frowned, looking around. Who said that?
Before she could deal with the shocking fact that she had agreed to his plan, he was lying prone on the sled. Rising up on one elbow, he asked, “Ready?”
She glared at him, not believing what was happening. But even as she took a step away from him, that same vile, incorrigible, disobedient wanton beast inside her forced her next step to be forward—toward him and his waiting back. As if by magic, she found herself standing over him.
“Okay, I’m braced,” he said with a grin.
She gave him an impatient smirk. “I don’t weigh that much.”
He laughed. “I know. I thought you might jump on me with both feet.”
Her smirk was hijacked by the incorrigible beast inside her, and she found herself smiling. “Don’t give me any ideas.”
With a playful wag of his brows, he cocked his head. “Come on, I’m getting cold.”
She scrambled to straddle him, muttering, “That’ll be the day.”
Once she was lying. on his back, she grabbed his shoulders and shouted, “Go!” Her objective was to get this thing over before she completely lost her mind.
He pushed off and they headed down the long incline. The race through cold air and fluttering snow was exhilarating, but not nearly as thrilling as the feel of his taut hips against her thighs. She could detect every flex of muscle in his shoulders and his legs, registering the sensations with heart-pounding single-mindedness. He maneuvered around a curve in the hill, and she squealed, burying her head in his neck. She sucked in a breath of him, enjoying the experience much more than she should.
As she lifted her face again, he steered the sled sharply left, barely missing a little cedar. “Are you trying to kill us?” she shrieked, laughing.
“I hate back seat drivers,” he shouted.
“I’m not crazy about you, either!” She squealed as they took another turn. The beast inside her made her burst out with a delighted peal of laughter. Then it forced her to her curl her feet around his legs, clamping her body even tighter against his. Darn beast!
His next turn was even sharper, and they skidded sideways for what seemed to be an eternity before gravity won out and they spilled into soft snow. As she was thrown off his back, she instinctively grabbed his shoulders. When they came to rest, she found herself sprawled beneath him.
As the laughter stopped, their eyes met.
Alex brushed snow from her cheek, whispering, “Fantasies do come true.”
She lay there, looking into his remarkable face, his body, hot and hard, blanketing hers. His soft smile, those exotic eyes mesmerized her.
“You did that on purpose,” she accused softly, unable to conjure up a shred of real indignity.
His answer was the hunger she could see in his eyes, as he lowered his lips to hers.
CHAPTER NINE
ELISSA found herself surrendering to the wonder of his kiss. Her senses filled with his texture and scent, and she kissed him back with all the passion she possessed. Breathless and with urgent abandon, s
he wrapped her arms around him, her embrace as wild and hungry as her kiss.
He moaned against her lips, clearly aware of the change in her attitude. His mouth moved over hers, his hot kiss becoming a provocative request. The fires inside her shot upward and outward, and with a surge of joy, she opened her lips inviting him to fully possess her mouth.
With a sensuous rhythm, his tongue joined hers in a soundless, writhing dance. Caressing, thrusting with increased urgency, his tongue sent her spiraling toward new heights of sensation. Sizzling desire roared through her, feelings that were both alien and exquisite. No other man had ever affected her this way, making her bold, unafraid—even eager—to share herself fully.
As his kisses grew white-hot, his body began to move suggestively against hers. Though some faint voice in her brain shrieked that this man was her enemy, that she was a fool to let this happen, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.
At long, long last, she faced a truth she had been fighting since that fateful morning of her birthday, when he’d walked into her inn. She loved Alex D’Amour. From the first time she’d looked into his strange, silver eyes, she’d known, deep inside, that this was the man she’d looked for all her life—intelligent, authoritative, and first-class sexy. He could have been her lover, her confidant and her verbal spaning partner.
Only, after that first, split second of revelation, he’d told her the bad news. He planned to take away her inn. So, she’d fought the feeling, denied it with all her strength.
But now, glorying in the torturous sweetness of his lovemaking, she could no longer lie to herself. She loved Alex D’Amour with all her heart and soul.
Yet, what did he feel for her? His whispered vow at the dance sprang to her mind—his promise of seduction—and her heart clenched. Yes, that was all this little romp was to him. A challenge. A victory to be won. Oh, he probably found her attractive enough to crave a quick fling, but that was all. He’d made his feeling about love quite clear.
