Christmas at the Cove. Rachel Brimble

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Christmas at the Cove - Rachel  Brimble Mills & Boon Superromance

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right up.”

      While he mixed her drink, Carrie swiveled around on her seat, her imagination on perpetual overdrive. Each and every person relaxing in the bar served as a potential character in a future TV project.

      “One martini, as requested.”

      She dragged her gaze from a man nearing eighty, and the woman on his arm who looked barely out of college, to face the bartender. “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.” He grinned and the glint in his eyes grew brighter.

      Carrie lifted the elegant cocktail glass and took a delicate sip. “Mmm...that’s lovely. Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome. So...” He planted his hands on the bar and leaned closer. “Are you in the Cove visiting family for the holidays?”

      She slowly replaced her glass on its coaster as wariness skittered over her skin. The less people knew about her, the easier her escape from Templeton would be. She cleared her throat and concentrated on the olive in her drink. “I’m hoping to catch up with an acquaintance. I don’t plan on being here for Christmas.”

      “I see.”

      She met his eyes and he lifted an eyebrow, his intense gaze roaming over her face. “Does this acquaintance know you’re here?”

      She shook her head. “It’s a surprise.”

      “A man, by any chance?”

      Is that really any of your business? Carrie nodded. “Uh-huh.”

      Disappointment flickered across his face. “Damn, that’s my hopes dashed, then.”

      Carrie laughed and wiggled her left hand, showing him her wedding band, hoping the bartender would change the subject. No such luck.

      “Ah, okay. Is the person you’re visiting anyone I might know?”

      The lighter tone of his voice indicated his cooling flirtation as he wandered a few feet away and took some discarded glasses from the bar to stack in the washer. Feeling suddenly indecisive, Carrie studied his profile as he concentrated on his task. Her intention had been to spend an hour soaking up the nostalgic atmosphere and then head to bed so she was as refreshed as possible in the morning to start her task of finding Scott. However, putting out feelers on who he was today could prove useful.

      Deciding this was too good an opportunity to waste, she sipped her drink and contemplated her next move. She guessed the bartender to be in his early twenties, probably five or six years younger than Scott. The likelihood they hung out in the same bar or place was highly probable. She hesitated. Of course, there could be trouble if the bartender saw Scott before Carrie did. Scott’s knowing she was in town and asking questions about him could easily start things off on completely the wrong foot.

      She inhaled a long breath and took a leap of faith. “His name’s Scott.”

      “Scott who?”

      “Walker.”

      Interest piqued in his gaze and he gave a slow, knowing smile. “Right.”

      A flash of irritation rippled through her and Carrie quickly quashed it. How could she get mad at the implication she was a woman chasing after a past lover if in reality that’s exactly what she was? She lowered her glass. “Do you know him?”

      He slammed the washer door and flicked a switch. The muted rush of running water flowed between them. He smiled and stood directly in front of her. “You know, there isn’t a woman this side of Templeton who doesn’t keep tabs on Scott. You’ll have to fight to get to the front of the queue. Not that I’ve known the guy to ever get involved with a married woman.”

      Carrie glared. “And neither would I have an affair.”

      The barman at least had the decency to blush. “Right. Sorry.”

      “I assume you’re telling me our mutual friend likes the ladies...as long as they’re single, right?”

      He grinned. “I think it’s more of a case of the ladies liking Scott, but the guy’s only human and he doesn’t turn down a good time.”

      Carrie fought a scowl as her stomach knotted with unmistakable disappointment. So Scott was the man she really hoped he wouldn’t be...a man who loved them and left them. A man who most likely hadn’t lingered over their week together as she had. How could she have thought anything other than sex was on his mind during the passionate, frenzied, entirely erotic time they spent together? How could she have been so stupid to even contemplate the possibility there could have been more between them?

      She swallowed. “How well do you know him?”

      He shrugged. “Well enough.”

      “So his reputation precedes him?”

      “Something like that.”

      Irritation hummed through Carrie as she took another fortifying sip of her martini. So the man who fathered her child was a player. Perfect. Despite giving herself to him on a plate three years ago, a small part of her still wanted to believe she had Scott all wrong and their time together was as much a life-changing moment for him as it was her.

      Had she imagined the soft fascination she’d seen in his eyes when he looked at her? Had she really been wrong in assuming there was nowhere else he’d rather be than with her...just as she had felt about him?

      Shame infused her and Carrie inhaled a deep breath, dragging up her unending tenacity. Everything would work out for the best. Belle’s beautiful face filled her mind’s eye. It had to.

      She studied the bartender as he moved back and forth behind the bar, and narrowed her eyes. She cleared her throat. “So, Scott is still in Templeton?”

      He came toward her and planted his hands on the bar. “If we’re talking about Scott Walker with dark hair, works out, has a smile that makes women weak at the damn knees because he’s got that whole miserable, broody thing going on...”

      Carrie smiled. “Yep, that sounds like him.”

      The bartender grinned. “So, you go in for misery rather than mirth, huh?”

      “I’m not in for either right now. I’m in town for a few days, so I thought I’d look him up.” Carrie struggled to retain an aloof facade as her knee bounced out of control against the bar. “It’s been a while since I last saw him.”

      He whipped a cloth from the waistband of his trousers and slapped it onto the bar. “Well, I might be reading things wrong here, but from where I’m standing, Scott Walker’s the only guy around here confident enough to let a woman as beautiful as you slip through his fingers, that’s for sure.”

      She lowered her eyes. “Maybe.”

      “Hey.”

      She looked up. “What?”

      The bartender’s teasing expression softened. “He’s a good guy. Scott’s just not interested in settling down, and he makes sure he doesn’t ever lead a woman on to think otherwise. He’s one of the good

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