want you up here today. At the latest, tomorrow morning. You’re taking over this assignment.”
Meg’s astonished gasp was audible through the phone lines, but that didn’t sway Holly. She’d spent a sleepless night scarfing down Christmas cookies and weighing the consequences of remaining at Stony Creek Farm. While waiting for the sun to rise, she’d decided that leaving was the only option she had. Even though Alex had vowed to keep his distance, Holly was convinced, sooner or later, she’d go begging. And when she did, it wouldn’t be for mere kisses. No, she’d want more from Alex Marrin.
Her mind wandered back to the kiss they’d shared, the unbridled desire he’d ignited inside her. The moment his lips had touched hers, Holly knew she wanted him. But a tiny corner of her brain blared out a warning she couldn’t ignore. She’d known Alex for less than a week and she was ready to toss aside her inhibitions!
How could she possibly know what she wanted? It had taken her almost a year to decide she wanted Stephan and look how badly that turned out! No, Holly Bennett never made spur-of-the-moment decisions. She always weighed all her options carefully, made a plan, considered every angle.
Though an affair with Alex could be wonderfully exciting, it was also a dangerous proposition. She already knew he wasn’t the type of man to give his heart freely. His divorce had obviously left scars, deep and painful. And he’d already made his feelings quite clear. He was attracted to her, but there’d be no proposals of marriage, no happily ever after. Whatever she might imagine between them, it would only be sex to him.
“What’s this all about?” Meg asked, her voice ragged with sleep.
“I just think you’d be better suited to this assignment.”
“Why?”
“Well, you’re much—” Holly searched for a plausible reason “—much stronger than I am.”
“If there’s heavy lifting to be done, why don’t you hire someone?” Meg suggested. “We certainly have the budget.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Holly said, dragging her overnight bag from beneath the bed.
Meg paused. “What do you mean? Has something happened? You sound upset.”
“I’m fine,” she said, throwing the bag open.
“You’re lying,” Meg countered. “I can always tell when you’re lying, even over the phone. What’s up?”
Holly paused, wondering if she should tell Meg the entire story or just the bare facts. “All right. There’s this man. Actually, Eric Marrin’s father, Alex. And we have a—a thing between us.”
“A thing? Did you get all prissy with him? You know how men hate that. I’m always telling you, you have to be more flexible and more—”
“I wasn’t prissy!” She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Just the opposite. Whenever I’m around him, we end up kissing. Or almost kissing.”
“You kissed a man?” Meg took a moment to digest the startling news. “You kissed a man! We are talking about on the lips, aren’t we?”
“Once. He almost kissed me in the snow and in the kitchen. And then, there was the time he kissed my finger, but that doesn’t count.”
“It doesn’t?” Meg asked.
“Well, I don’t think kissing a girl’s hurt finger can qualify as a sexual overture.”
“Honey, just because I haven’t had a date in six months, doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself.”
“I have a reputation to protect,” Holly replied.
“Now you are being prissy.”
“I can’t allow myself to have personal feelings for a client.” She held her breath, hoping that Meg wouldn’t realize that Alex Marrin wasn’t exactly a client. Since he wasn’t footing the bill for her time and effort, then she was completely free to strip naked and dance around his kitchen in her apron and oven mitts if she felt so inclined. “Please, Meg, you have to help me. If I stay here, I’m not sure what I’ll do.”
“Gee, you might just go crazy and make wild, passionate love to the guy. And that might be exactly what you need!” Meg cried. “Holly, you have your life so perfectly planned right down to the underwear you’re going to wear next Thursday. Maybe it’s time you tried a little spontaneity.”
“This is not about my character flaws, Meg! This is about sex! Sex with a man who’s probably really, really good at it. Needless to say, I’m very bad at it. Now, if you want to be hanging tinsel with me next Christmas, you better pack your bags and take the first train north.”
“I’ve got work to finish here,” Meg protested. “The soonest I can get on a train is tomorrow morning.”
Holly wasn’t in the mood to argue any longer. It would require her to convince Meg that her business reputation was more precious to her than a few nights of torrid sex with Alex Marrin. And right now, even she knew that would be a lie.
She gave Meg a few more instructions, listened to a recitation of her phone messages, then hung up, placing the phone softly in the cradle. With a quiet moan, Holly buried her face in her hands and flopped back onto the bed. How could she have made such a mess of this all? Perhaps if she’d just been firm that first time he almost kissed her.
But it went back farther than that. From the moment they’d met in the horse barn, she felt it. A force drawing them together, magnetic, powerful and completely uncontrollable. As if all her carefully cultivated reserve had suddenly vanished, Holly felt like a woman driven by impulse rather than good common sense.
Rolling over on her stomach, she grabbed the phone book from the bedside table and flipped through it, looking for a cab company, desperate to do something sensible. Though the train didn’t leave until that afternoon, the sooner she made her escape, the easier it would be on all of them.
The owner of Schuyler Falls’ only cab company answered after seven or eight rings and sounded as if he’d just crawled out of bed. She made arrangements for him to pick her up at the end of the driveway in a half hour. That would give her enough time to finish packing and write a quick note to Eric explaining her sudden departure.
When she had finally stuffed the last bit of clothing into her suitcase, she quickly snapped it shut then grabbed her coat. Holly took one last look around the room, then walked out of the tack house. The sun wasn’t even up, but the yard lights lit the way up to the house. She hurried across the porch, eager to avoid the barns, also brightly blazing with light.
But as she turned the corner on the tack house porch, she ran face first into a lean, hard, finely muscled chest, clothed in a familiar canvas jacket. Her bag slipped out of her hand and landed squarely on the toe of her shoe. Holly yelped in pain, then hopped around on one foot. When the pain subsided, she managed to look up into Alex’s face.
His eyes darted to her bag. “What’s this?” he asked with a frown.
Wincing with pain, Holly snatched up her suitcase and moved around him. “I’m leaving,” she said, limping as fast as she could.
“Today?”
“You
