Holiday Man Read online

  “Keith? Darlene?” she said to the Bakers when they walked through the lobby with their luggage, including the massive stuffed animal (a turkey, of course) that they’d won in the Turkey Trot Dance-Off. Shannon grinned at them. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

  “Sure, dearie!” Darlene said.

  Her husband nodded. “With you? Anytime.”

  “Good,” she replied, motioning them into her office. “Because I have a business proposition for you both, and I’m hoping my idea might appeal to you.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Christmas

  Shannon stared at the blinking cursor of her computer screen and at the still unwritten message she’d been trying to compose—with a stunning lack of success—for the past hour. She’d gotten as far as:

  Dear Bram,

  How are you?

  Then she ran out of ideas.

  It was, however, two weeks before Christmas and, much as she would love to see him again and not ever have another argument with him, they still hadn’t recovered from their Halloween standoff. A month and a half of avoidance on both their parts was hardly healthy relationship behavior.

  Although, he had tried to contact her once…

  She’d seen his number come up as a missed call on her phone back in mid-November. And she’d waited and waited, hoping he’d call back or send her some other kind of message.

  But he hadn’t.

  Then it was Thanksgiving and, ever since, she’d been working sixty-hour weeks between her regular job at The Ashland Hotel and the transitioning she’d been doing to prepare for the official sale of Holiday Quinn, which would be coming up a few weeks into the New Year.

  All these moments of busy insanity hadn’t stopped her from thinking about Bram, though. A lot. But the longer they didn’t talk, the more awkward it felt to try to strike up a conversation out of nowhere. Even if that conversation was one-sided and electronic.

  I hope everything has been going well for you.

  I’ve miss you so much—

  No, no, no, no!

  She deleted that last line.

  I’ve been thinking about you and had wondered if you were still planning to visit Holiday Quinn during the Christmas/New Year’s Celebration Week. You’d made the reservation several months ago, but…

  Shannon paused.

  …but you walked out of the inn without a word and, since then, we’ve both been too stubborn to reach out or to apologize.

  Definitely no.

  Not that this wasn’t the truth, but it just wasn’t something that should be said via e-mail.

  …but I would understand if your holiday plans have changed.

  Please let me know when you have a moment. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

  With best wishes,

  Shannon

  She took a deep breath and clicked SEND.

  Then she rested her arms on her desk and flopped her head down on top of them. One measly e-mail and she was as exhausted as if she’d just run a marathon.

  Jake, who was at the inn helping to pull the Christmas decoration boxes out of storage, strolled by her office, glanced once in her direction and laughed. “You look like you’re ready for a long winter’s nap, Mrs. Claus. Need a cup of coffee?”

  Shannon raised her head up just far enough to shake it. “I need more than a cup,” she admitted. “A vat of peppermint-mocha lattés topped with whipped cream and red-and-green sprinkles would, actually, be perfect. Can you tell Santa to bring me that?”

  He grinned. “Only if you’re good.” He pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket and tossed the colorful pamphlet on her desk. “Spain,” he said simply. “Think about it.”

  Then he disappeared down the hall, whistling “Here Comes Santa Claus” as he went.

  She groaned.

  Jake certainly knew how to entice her. Almost every day in the two weeks since the Bakers had enthusiastically agreed to buy Holiday Quinn (with Margaret Ashland as their adviser, when needed), Jake had been plying Shannon with travel brochures—all featuring alluring places around the globe. He’d already tempted her with seductive, exotic locales in the Caribbean, South America and a number of Pacific islands, and he was now working his way through the wonders of Europe and Asia.

  She flipped open the information on Spain. The sunny image of the gorgeous Costa del Sol stood in marked contrast to the snowy image outside her window. She wrapped her arms around herself—hoping the cable-knit sweater she wore would ward off some of the Arctic-like chill in the air around her—and she daydreamed about strolling along the lush, vibrant, nearly subtropical beaches of southern Spain. Mmm.

  The phone jarred her out of her fantasy, and she reached for it reflexively, without checking the Caller ID first.

  “Holiday Quinn,” she said.

  “Shannon?” a male voice she hadn’t heard in six weeks said. The mere rumble of him saying that single word—her name—registered deep in her abdomen, and she realized just how much she’d missed him.

  “Bram.” It came out soft and breathy, but she didn’t care. She felt lucky to be able to speak at all.

  “I got your e-mail,” he said.

  “Oh, yes. Of course.” She slowly exhaled. Ah. That was why he was calling. She steeled herself for his next comments, certain a cancellation was coming…and then, she knew, she’d never see or hear from him again.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said. “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you that.”

  And she just melted into a puddle.

  She apologized, too, for not reaching out to him sooner and confessed to having missed him a great deal. “I think we need to talk,” she said, feeling the elation of hope for the first time in a long time. “In person.”

  He agreed and said he’d called to ask her to keep his weeklong reservation He’d blocked out the vacation time back in early-October and fully intended to use it.

  “I’d really like for us to discuss what, exactly, happened on Halloween, Shannon. To see if we can move forward from there.”

  “Okay,” she whispered. Then she made herself add, “There have been some changes since you were last here.”

  The pause on the line was interminable.

  “With you? Your relationships?” he asked finally. “Is there…somebody else now?”

  “No!” she said quickly. “It’s nothing like that.” But she found she couldn’t bring herself to tell him about the impending sale of the inn over the phone. It seemed too impersonal a method for someone like Bram. Someone who’d grown so attached to the place.

  Fortunately, he didn’t seem to require any further explanations. “Oh, good,” he said, relief in his voice. And he left it at that.

  Shannon knew in that moment that he hadn’t gotten himself a new significant other in the interim either, and she was surprised by the power of her gratitude for that small blessing. No doubt, he would have had the opportunity, especially in a populous area like Minneapolis/St. Paul or on one of his many business trips to Milan or Tokyo or wherever.

  Instead, they talked about the weather for a few minutes, determining that it was equally cold in both Minnesota and Wisconsin—hardly news for December in the Midwest—but that was the kind of easy chitchat Shannon needed after their earlier, heart-pounding conversation. Then, before they hung up, they settled on the plan to spend as much of the upcoming holiday week together as possible.

  She was sweating, she noticed, as she took her hand off the receiver and saw the wetness left behind on the phone. And she had to completely pull off her sweater for a few minutes and walk around the office in just the t-shirt she’d worn underneath until she could lower her body temperature to a range closer to normal again.

  All signs—physical and emotional—pointed toward one scary realization: She was far more invested in her relationship with Bram than she’d ever wanted to acknowledge and, soon, the fate of their future would be determined.

  She couldn’t help but hope that every
thing would magically work out, of course. Wasn’t that what angels and Christmas miracles were for?

  But she had an uncomfortable foreboding sensation that lingered deep within her and carved out little pockets of worry in her gut. She couldn’t help but fear she’d been right from the very beginning on two important points:

  One, that Bram’s interest in her was tied to Holiday Quinn and would fade quickly without her continued connection to this place.

  And, two, that she and Bram might share a steamy romance for a few seasons but, ultimately, they were too different to be destined to stay together for long.

  ***

  Bram pulled into the Holiday Quinn parking lot at 6:47 p.m. Christmas Eve, turned off the car engine and opened the driver’s side door, taking several fortifying breaths of the wintry air.

  The scent of snow mingling with pine grounded him in the moment. And the flashing holiday lights, which surrounded the inn with color and brightened up the dark December sky, reminded him that it was, in fact, supposed to be a time of celebration.

  He’d been on the road much of the day, driving with a feeling of nervous anticipation usually reserved only for big corporate takeovers or long sit-down conversations with his father. Since it had been several years since he’d experienced either, the tense edginess that had been lurking inside of him all day could only mean one thing: Shannon.

  He wasn’t a man prone to doubting himself or second guessing his decisions, but he’d been mentally running scenarios for hours about how it would go seeing her again after nearly two months apart. Would they fall right back into the patterns they’d begun when they first met…or had that only been an illusion? How well did they know each other really? And was he a fool to care so much about what she thought of him? Or to imagine that they had a shot at a life together?

  Bram didn’t know the answers to any of these questions, but he was determined to find out once and for all.

  He stepped out of the car, grabbed his bag and, with determined strides, marched toward the front entrance.

  It was like the movie set of Holiday Inn come to life. When he walked inside, it seemed as though they’d imported the soundstage for the film and transplanted it to eastern Wisconsin.

  Guests milled around the lobby like cast members, dressed in cozy winter garments and sipping cups of cocoa with candy canes as stirring sticks.

  Snowflake clings adorned every window and the soft sounds of “White Christmas,” complete with jingling bells, played in the background along with the hum and chatter of the happy couples.

  There was a hint of peppermint in the air (from the candy canes, no doubt) melding with the scent of pine from the large Christmas tree in the corner. A beautifully decorated blue spruce, lavishly trimmed with tiny white lights and silver and gold ornaments.

  Bram saw an angel in white atop the tree, complete with gossamer wings, a fur-lined cloak and glinting silver sequins…but he knew the real angel was dressed in a red sweater and standing behind the counter, checking in the guests.

  “Ah. Hartwick, you’ve returned,” Jake the Prick said coldly.

  The chill from behind him made Bram shiver as he turned to stare down the guy. He gave his best attempt at a Machiavellian scowl. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes, I have.”

  There was something different about the assistant this time, though, Bram realized as Jake stared back. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but he felt a definite undercurrent of change behind Jake’s expression. Almost as though the assistant knew something that he felt gave him an advantage. He looked bolder as a result.

  The mask is fully off. The jester has gone into fighting mode, Bram thought.

  He intensified his glare at the other man and watched as Jake’s green eyes twinkled with a brighter light of cunning than Bram had ever seen.

  One side of The Prick’s mouth quirked upward. Then, as if laughing at an inside joke that Bram wasn’t in on, the assistant said, “Hope you’ll enjoy your final stay.” There was a significant pause. “Of the year.”

  Before Bram could respond, he heard his name. He looked up and saw Shannon waving to him from behind the counter. When he glanced back at Jake, he found the other man had disappeared. Odd.

  He walked up to Shannon. It’d been too long since he’d last seen her in person. Not that he’d forgotten anything, just that she was more vibrant, more alluring than even he had remembered. He had to tell his heart to slow down, force himself to take deeper breaths before he could speak.

  “It’s good to see you, Shannon,” he managed. “Very good.”

  She didn’t reply at all at first. She just smiled at him. That was enough.

  Then, finally, she said, “It’s good to see you, too.” She fiddled with the computer for a moment before handing him his keycard. “The Astaire Suite is waiting for you.”

  He took the plastic card from her, caressing her hand in the process. He could see her pause. Hold her breath. Swallow a time or two. A line was beginning to form behind them. He knew he had her attention for only a moment more.

  “When will you be free?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Ten-thirty,” she murmured. “The evening events should be over no later than that.”

  Bram picked up his few items and leaned across the counter until his head was only a few inches from hers. “Until then, Shannon.”

  ***

  Her heart pounded in double time as she knocked on the door to the Astaire Suite. Seeing Bram again, just a few hours ago, brought rushing back every single memory they’d shared since February.

  Shannon was surprised by how many there were, despite the fact that they’d only gotten together in person on scattered holiday weekends. But it was amazing how fast you could get to know someone if you were motivated…

  Or, at least, think you’d gotten to know someone.

  Nervousness made her almost turn away, but Bram was quick to open the door. Too quick.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice deep and husky, his eyes trained on her face. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned all the way down the front, and his feet were bare below his black slacks.

  “Hi,” she whispered back.

  He motioned her inside the room. “What have you got there?”

  Lost in the intensity of his stare, she’d almost forgotten the basket she was carrying. It was a gift of sorts, being that tonight was Christmas Eve and all.

  “A present for you,” she replied, setting it down in a nearby corner. “For later.”

  One of his dark eyebrows rose to mid-forehead and a smile tugged his lips upward. He closed the door behind them and then nodded at the table closest to the bed, where a gift-wrapped package sat prettily in wait.

  “Got one of those for you, too. Thought we’d save it until Christmas morning, though.” He took a step toward her and pulled her into his arms with a smooth, proprietary movement. “Unless—well, unless you aren’t planning to be here then.” His voice held an unasked question.

  She met his gaze and held it. “Bram, my plan was to stay with you tonight. Unless, of course, you’d rather—”

  But he cut her off, blanketing her mouth with a kiss so passionate she felt its heat singe her toes.

  Shannon wrapped her arms around him, underneath his open shirt so she could run her palms against his bare skin, and let herself be consumed by the flames of their reunion.

  “That’s all I needed to know,” he said in her ear, a moment before he stripped off her red wool sweater and divested her of her bra, her skirt and her panties, too.

  She, in turn, tugged off his dress shirt and got as far as unfastening his belt before his impatience got the better of him. He relieved her of that task, finishing it himself with a rapidity approaching the speed of light.

  And before she could blink, he was on top of her. His bare chest against hers. His lean legs entangled with her own. Their lips and tongues connecting in a dance that merged their whole bodies together.

  Shannon’s breath cau
ght when he entered her with a graceful but powerful thrust. It felt destined for them to be as one. Like the fit of two interlocking puzzles pieces. And, yet, it was unsettling, too. She had already lost all notion of where her flesh ended and his began. More than ever, it felt dangerous to have her boundaries disintegrate like this. To have no control in his presence. No tangible sense of self. He effortlessly rendered her immobile, dependent and fuzzy-brained from lust.

  Well, no.

  It had become more than lust.

  There was admiration, affection, respect, friendship and other qualities present there as well. Maybe it was too soon to confess to being in love with the man, but what Shannon felt when she was around Bram was far more than mere infatuation.

  As much as she was thrilled by their physical compatibility, it was that rare feeling of oneness and contentment that he brought out in her when she was in his arms that challenged her the most. It convinced her that, for the first time in her life, she may have actually found The One.

  Unfortunately, it was at exactly the time when, more than anything, she needed to be independent and unencumbered.

  ***

  It was sometime after midnight when Bram awoke, having just had, perhaps, the best make-up sex of his life, followed by the deepest post-coital nap. But he wasn’t above doing it again a time or two before daybreak, just to make sure he’d really and truly reached a personal record.

  One thing, though, kept nagging at him about the make-up sex—and it wasn’t the sex part that was cause for concern. He and Shannon still hadn’t spoken a word to each other about the Halloween blowup. It was this massive white elephant in the room, which might as well have been sitting on the loveseat like a gigantic Christmas present with a big red bow on its head.

  The more Shannon avoided discussing the incident with him, the more worried about it he became. Not that he’d actually given her much of a chance to talk about anything that night.

  “Hey,” she said, flipping toward him and smiling sleepily. “You’re up.”