His black hair was long, hitting past the collar of his dark red shirt, and the thick mass lifted slightly as another cold wind trickled past. His jaws were shadowed by whiskers and his mouth was a grim straight line. He was tall, with broad shoulders, narrow hips and long legs currently encased in worn, faded denim that stacked on the tops of a pair of weathered brown cowboy boots.
If it wasn’t for the narrowed eyes and the grim expression on his face, he would have been the star of any number of Joy’s personal fantasies. Then he spoke and the already tattered remnants of said fantasy drifted away.
“This is private property,” he said in a voice that was more of a growl. “If you’re looking for town, go back to the main road and turn left. Stay on the road and you’ll get there in about twenty minutes.”
Well, this was starting off well.
“Thanks,” she said, desperately trying to hang on to the smile curving her mouth as well as her optimistic attitude. “But I’m not lost. I’ve just come from town.”
If anything, his frown deepened. “Then why’re you here?”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Joy said, half tugging Holly behind her. Not that she was afraid of him—but why subject her little girl to a man who looked like he’d rather slam the door in their faces than let them in?
“I repeat,” he said, “who are you?”
“I’m Joy. Kaye’s friend?” It came out as a question though she hadn’t meant it as one.
“You’re kidding.” His eyes went wide as his gaze swept her up and down in a fast yet thorough examination.
She didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. But when his features remained stiff and cold, she went for insulted.
“Is there a problem?” she asked. “Kaye told me you’d be expecting me and—”
“You’re not old.”
She blinked at him. “Thank you for noticing, though I’ve got to say, if Kaye ever hears you call her ‘old,’ it won’t be pretty.”
“That’s not—” He stopped and started again. “I was expecting a woman Kaye’s age,” he continued. “Not someone like you. Or,” he added with a brief glance at Holly, “a child.”
Why hadn’t Kaye told him about Holly? For a split second, Joy worried over that and wondered if he’d try to back out of their deal now. But an instant later she assured herself that no matter what happened, she was going to hold him to his word. She needed to be here and she wasn’t about to leave.
She took a breath and ignored the cool chill in his eyes. “Well, that’s a lovely welcome, thanks. Look, it’s cold out here. If you don’t mind, I’d like to come in and get settled.”
He shook his head, opened his mouth to speak, but Holly cut him off.
“Are you the prince?” She stepped out from behind her mother, tipped her head back and studied him.
“The what?”
Joy tensed. She didn’t want to stop Holly from talking—wasn’t entirely sure she could—but she was more than willing to intervene if the quietly hostile man said something she didn’t like.
“The prince,” Holly repeated, the tiny lisp that defined her voice tugging at Joy’s heart. “Princes live in castles.”
Joy caught the barest glimmer of a smile brush across his face before it was gone again. Somehow, though, that ghost of real emotion made her feel better.
“No,” he said and his voice was softer than it had been. “I’m not a prince.”
Joy could have said something to that, and judging by the glance he shot her, he half expected her to. But irritating him further wasn’t going to get her and Holly into the house and out of the cold.
“But he looks like a prince, doesn’t he, Mommy?”
A prince with a lousy attitude. A dark prince, maybe.
“Sure, honey,” she said with a smile for the little girl shifting from foot to foot in her eagerness to get inside the “castle.”
Turning back to the man who still stood like an immovable object in the doorway, Joy said reasonably, “Look, I’m sorry we aren’t what you were expecting. But here we are. Kaye told you about the fire at our house, right?”
“The firemen came and let me sit in the big truck with the lights going and it was really bright and blinking.”
“Is that right?” That vanishing smile of his came and went again in a blink.
“And it smelled really bad,” Holly put in, tugging her hand free so she could pinch her own nose.
“It did,” Joy agreed, running one hand over the back of Holly’s head. “And,” she continued, “it did enough damage that we can’t stay there while they’re fixing it—” She broke off and said, “Can we finish this inside? It’s cold out here.”
For a second, she wasn’t sure he’d agree, but then he nodded, moved back and opened the wide, heavy door. Heat rushed forward to greet them, and Joy nearly sighed in pleasure. She gave a quick look around at the entry hall. The gleaming, honey-colored logs shone in the overhead light. The entry floor was made up of huge square tiles in mottled earth tones. Probably way easier to clean up melting snow from tile floors instead of wood, she told herself and let her gaze quickly move over what she could see of the rest of the house.
It seemed even bigger on the inside, which was hard to believe, and with the lights on against the dark of winter, the whole place practically glowed. A long hallway led off to the back of the house, and on the right was a stairway leading to the second floor. Near the front door, there was a handmade coat tree boasting a half-dozen brass hooks and a padded bench attached.
Shrugging out of her parka, Joy hung it on one of the hooks, then turned and pulled Holly’s jacket off as well, hanging it alongside hers. The warmth of the house surrounded her and all Joy could think was, she really wanted to stay. She and Holly needed a place and this house with its soft glow was...welcoming, in spite of its owner.
She glanced at the man watching her, and one look told her that he really wanted her gone. But she wasn’t going to allow that.
The house was gigantic, plenty of room for her and Holly to live and still stay out of Sam Henry’s way. There was enough land around the house so that her little girl could play. One man to cook and clean for, which would leave her plenty of time to work on her laptop. And oh, if he made them leave, she and her daughter would end up staying in a hotel in town for a month. Just the thought of trying to keep a five-year-old happy when she was trapped in a small, single room for weeks made Joy tired.
“Okay, we’re inside,” he said. “Let’s talk.”
“Right. It’s a beautiful house.” She walked past him, forcing the man to follow her as she walked to the first doorway and peeked in. A great room—that really lived up to the name.
Floor-to-ceiling windows provided a sweeping view of the frozen lake, a wide lawn and a battalion of pines that
