'Twas the Week Before Christmas (13 page)

He slid a glance at Holly. She gave a watery smile. “You didn’t have any brothers and sisters?”

“No.”

“Me, neither.”

He wasn’t sure why, but something about this shared bond made him feel closer to her. Even if—judging from this place—her circumstances had been quite different than his own.

“Money was always tight,” he continued. “Especially around the holidays. My dad spent all the money he made at the mill on booze at the town bar after work. More than a few times a week my mom would get a phone call from the owner of the tavern, telling her to come collect him, that he was too drunk to drive home. She’d have to ask the lady next door to come sit with me. I’ll never forget the shame in her face. Or the fear in her eyes.”

“She was afraid of him?” Holly asked gently.

“My father was a mean drunk,” Max said. “A mean, mean drunk. When he got like that...my mother didn’t know what she was about to step into. She walked on glass. As did I.

“Did he ever hurt her? Or—” Holly paused as the horrifying thought took hold, but Max waved away her concern with his hand.

“He never hurt either of us. Nah, he preferred to punish my mother in other ways.”

“But why?”

Max shrugged. “For trapping him. For getting pregnant with me. He was miserable.”

“But she didn’t do it on purpose!” Holly protested.

“Oh, I know. But he didn’t care.” Max swallowed when he thought about the truth in Holly’s statement. She hadn’t meant to be hurtful, but the words cut him to the bone. She was right. His mother hadn’t gotten pregnant on purpose. He hadn’t been planned.
Or wanted.

“But what did he do then? To punish her?”

Max felt almost grateful that Holly was asking so many questions. It made opening up to her so much easier. She sensed his need to tell her this—to finally talk about it. That was what made Holly so easy to approach, he realized. She didn’t just feign an interest in people’s lives. She genuinely cared.

“Oh...he would break things that were special to her. He always apologized once he’d sobered up, but some things couldn’t be replaced.”

“Like her record player?” Holly ventured.

Man, she was good. “Yep,” Max said with a bitter smile. “And since money was tight, she never got another.”

Holly frowned, her eyes holding his almost pleadingly. “Is that when she stopped singing?”

Max sighed deeply. “No, she stopped long before that. Around the house, at least. You asked about her giving music lessons? She did that once.”

“Just once? What happened?”

Max swallowed hard. “Remember how I told you about that train I wanted for Christmas one year?” Holly nodded and Max continued, “I never connected it until much later, but she took a job giving singing lessons to a girl in town. A daughter of one of her friends from high school.”

“That was the only time?” Holly was squinting at him, trying to piece the nuggets of information together.

“She isolated herself over time,” he explained. “You know how it is living here in this small town. Everyone knows you. Everyone knows your business. It’s fine when you have nothing to hide, but when you do, it can be really tough. People would whisper when she’d take me to the store—some just loving the gossip, some feeling pity—and her face...I just remember the look on her face. The way she would hang her head. The way she wouldn’t make eye contact. The way the light in her eyes was just gone. It just became too much for her.”

And for me too,
he thought.

Holly shifted her eyes to the fire. “That would be very hard,” she reflected. “Small-town life isn’t always easy.”

“No, and in this case, it was impossible. Everyone knew my father. And everyone heard the screaming.”

Holly grimaced. “That must have been difficult to listen to every day.”

“You get used to it. What other choice do you have?”

“Did your mother every think about leaving?”

Max leaned forward and stoked the fire. “That year when I asked for the train, she gave music lessons twice a week to save for that train. Two days before Christmas, my father found the money. They had a terrible fight. I was too young to understand at the time. Heck.” He chuckled. “I still believed in Santa.”

Holly eyes searched his. “What happened?”

“He spent all the money my mom had earned on a round of beers for his buddies down at the tavern,” he said simply.

“The money for the train,” Holly summarized quietly.

Max shrugged. “The next day, she was gone. No train. No mother. Nothing under the tree. And that,” he said, “is when I stopped believing.”

Holly wiped away a tear with the back of her hand and let her gaze drift to the fire. They lapsed into silence, watching the flames crackle and dance. Eventually she asked, “Did you ever see her again?”

Max inhaled deeply. “She said she’d be back for me once she found a job and had a place for us.”

Holly gave him a measured look, already knowing the ending to the story. “But she never came back.”

“No.”

“Did you ever try to find her?”

“I went looking for her when I moved to New York. I thought she might have gotten into some off-Broadway show, that type of thing. But there was no trace of her.” He paused. “She probably changed her name.”

She wanted to start fresh. Just like I eventually did,
he thought.

“And your father?”

“I left that town when I was eighteen and never looked back,” he said firmly. “No reason to.”

Silence fell over the room until Holly finally spoke. “I am so sorry, Max.”

He turned to her, shrugging dismissively to curtail the enormity of what he had just told her. “I survived.”

Beside him, Holly remained solemn. “It isn’t fair.”

“Who said life has to be fair?” he asked. He reached for his plate, pleased to find the food was still warm from the heat of the fire.

“It would be nice if it could be,” Holly said, giving him a thin smile.

His stare held hers as he took a the last bite of pasta and set the empty plate back on the table. It was a comforting feeling, to be under her protective gaze, and when her hand slid over to tentatively graze his, he grasped for it, squeezing it in his large palm and feeling more connected to her in that moment than he ever had with anyone before her.

* * *

“Should we have our dessert now?” Holly forced a cheerful smile as she eyed Max cautiously, gauging his mood.

Her own heart still ached when she thought of the story he had shared. She could only imagine how he must feel. Unless it was something that was so much a part of him it didn’t touch him in the same way anymore.

Max smiled in relief. “What’s on the menu?”

Holly hesitated. “Oh. You didn’t—” She’d assumed he had made the final course, but the expectant look on his face told her otherwise. She smiled to herself. The innkeeper in her wanted to scold him, but his oversight only endeared him to her.

“How about pie?” she suggested. He was still her guest, after all.

“Sounds great,” Max said, standing to help her load the tray.

Holly watched him carefully as he went about the menial task. Max didn’t open up easily from what she’d gotten to know of him so far, but for some reason, he had chosen to share his innermost thoughts with her tonight. The look of loss and pain in his eyes when he spoke of his childhood tore at Holly’s heartstrings. She felt a stab in the gut as she looked around at the festive decorations, wondering what kind of painful reminder they might be causing him.

Once they would have hurt her, too.

“Do you want me to take down the tree?” she blurted.

Max’s bright blue eyes flung open. “What? Why?”

Holly shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next, looking desperately from the tree back to Max. “I understand now why Christmas is a difficult time for you. I don’t want to do anything to make it worse.”

Max’s eyes softened as he threw her a lopsided, boyish smile and Holly felt her stomach flutter. God help her. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could resist him. As it was he consumed her every thought when she wasn’t with him. And when she was...

“The truth is that I normally don’t spend this much time with women who listen to Christmas carols or bake gingerbread houses,” he said, motioning to the candy house perched on an end table.

Holly’s frowned in. So there it was. She wasn’t his type. Just as she had suspected. “Oh.”

She glanced up to see Max’s mouth curl into a smile. He took a step toward her, and she felt her body stiffen at his nearness. Their eyes were locked, each looking to the other to make sense of the situation.

“And you probably aren’t used to spending so much time with someone who would rather ignore Christmas.”

“Well, no—” Holly shook her head in protestation, but her words were lost as Max dipped his chin, lowering his mouth to hers.

“I’m willing to make an exception if you are,” he murmured. His fingers traced the curve of her waist, lingering just above her hip. She shifted with desire and twisted her body closer to his.

His face was so close to hers, she could feel the heat of his breath, catch the scent of musk on his skin. His eyes flamed with hunger and Holly shuddered in anticipation. His lips met hers once again, grazing them gently at first and then opening to explore her further. Her stiff, shocked body slowly relaxed in his arms, and she felt herself giving in to him as his strong, determined hands pulled her body against his own.

Max’s tongue danced slowly with hers, and then adjusted its rhythm as he sensed her arousal, probing her in a way that caused her knees to go weak.

Dropping the napkin she’d been holding on to for dear life, she pressed herself closer to him. His chest was firm and tight and she could feel the hard planes of his muscles through the thin material of his shirt. She slid her hand farther up his strong, wide back, taking in the contours of his broad torso, the heat emanating from his skin. She molded herself into him, pressing the swell of her breasts against his body, breathing in his masculine scent. A mixture of soap or aftershave, it was distinct and intoxicating.

She sensed him smile before he released her lips. His breath was hot in her ear, sending a tingle down her spine.

“You know, I’ve been wanting to do that for days,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“Why’d you wait so long?” she asked through a grin, glancing up at him.

His arms slid to her waist, his blue eyes piercing. “I could get used to that.”

So could I,
Holly thought.

Chapter Nine

M
ax tossed and turned into the early-morning hours. By four, he admitted defeat, and turned on the bedside lamp. Sleep would be impossible as long as his mind searched for a solution to ease the knot in his gut that tightened every time he imagined Holly’s face when she discovered his true purpose here. He couldn’t get his mind off Holly—the way her lips had felt against his, the way the soft, feminine curves of her body had made his groin tighten with arousal. There was no denying that he wanted her. He wanted to touch her, kiss her...but he couldn’t think about these things now. He had to keep a level head.

Pulling out his laptop, he reviewed the materials for the umpteenth time. Everything for an impending pitch to the city planning board was in place. The financial and demographic reports were solid. The architectural renderings were polished and attractive. The retail tenants that had already committed to the project were appealing and upscale, indicating others would follow. It was all there for the taking.

But for Max, the project had lost its luster.

He tried in vain to create a secondary plan, seeing if it was even feasible for the company to restore their existing projects rather than pursue new developments. But as he examined—and reexamined—the spreadsheets detailing how much money had already been poured into the planning of this new development, he knew he had to see it through. There was no denying it. If Hamilton Properties was going to stay in business, the project had to be built. It was the only thing that would save the existing centers and generate new revenue for the company.

Financially, he would be fine if Hamilton Properties went bust. But was he really thinking of sabotaging years of hard work over a woman he barely knew? A woman he knew he couldn’t even have a future with...

His work—the business he had worked so hard to build from nothing, when he’d started with nothing—was his life. It represented who he was now. The obstacles he had overcome.

He would have to be a fool to just throw it all away. But would he be a bigger fool to throw Holly away?

The kiss last night had been more promising than he’d expected. Sure, Holly was pretty and sweet, but the electric bolt he’d felt as their lips explored each other was more than he could have anticipated. His mind was clouded, reeling with memories of her touch, flooded with anxiety over the fallout of this project. Time was ticking fast. And he had a bad feeling everything was about to explode.

And that he’d be the one getting burned.

Max stood up from the desk in his room and stared out the window onto the snow-covered fields that surrounded the inn. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin and thought long and hard, but his mind was blank. The White Barn Inn was sitting on a gold mine. It could be put to much better use.

Or so I keep telling myself,
he thought.

Max drew a deep breath and glanced at his watch, surprised to realize that it was already almost nine. Heaving a sigh, he ran his fingers through his bedraggled hair. He’d deal with the business matters later. Surely by now Holly would be busy in the kitchen, whipping up something fragrant and delicious as she did every morning, and that was all the distraction he needed at the moment.

Besides, maybe George Miller wouldn’t even accept the offer.

Max pushed the thought away as quickly as it formed.
Ludicrous.
He liked Holly...a lot. But he couldn’t go throwing away a project this big based on attraction...no matter how deep.

His mind flashed to an image of Holly standing in the sun-filled kitchen in that red Christmas apron, humming carols to herself and sprinkling cinnamon into her coffee. Something inside him swelled as he recalled the sensation of her full breasts against his chest. Had that only been last night? It felt surreal now. To think he had held her in his arms. In that moment she had been all his. When he allowed his mind to wander there, he knew he couldn’t let her go.

But he wasn’t sure he had a choice.

Showering and shaving quickly, he dressed in one of the new sweaters he had bought in town and crossed to the door, mentally talking himself through the next part of the day. As difficult as it was going to be, he had to talk to Holly today. It was only three days until Christmas, and for all he knew, Abby had overheard too much of his conversation with the mayor. Or Bobby Miller had overheard his parents talking and told his friends. It was a small town and Max knew all too well how quickly gossip could spread.

Holly was going to learn the truth sooner rather than later anyway. It would be better if it came from him.

Now was the time to go after everything he wanted. Full force. The business and Holly.

There was no other way.

As he pulled the door to his room closed behind him and made his way down the sweeping staircase to the lobby, something told him that her attachment to the inn extended beyond it being her business or even her grandmother’s home. There was something deeper keeping her here, something that might be pivotal to the situation, and he intended to figure out exactly what that was. Today.

* * *

Holly pulled a few logs of kindling from the pile stacked neatly against the back of the house and sniffed. The biting cold was already making the tip of her nose burn and her eyes tear. Clutching the firewood to her chest, she threw her head back and allowed the morning sun to wash down over her face. A fresh wave of excitement tickled her spine when she thought of seeing Max again today. It had been a long time since she had felt this powerful flush of desire, and the heat he had awakened in her kept her warm all through the night.

A tapping at the glass from the kitchen window caused her to jump. Her eyes flew open to see Max smiling at her and waving. Her heart dropped to her stomach and stayed there as she turned the handle to the mudroom and, after hanging her coat on the rack and setting her boots on the rug to dry, emerged into the warm, fragrant kitchen.

Max was leaning against the counter, already clutching a steaming mug of coffee. “Morning.” He grinned sheepishly, and she smiled in return.

“Sleep well?” she asked. Unable to look him in the eye, she grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee and a splash of cream.

“I’ve slept better,” he admitted.

Holly darted her eyes to his and he threw her a lopsided smile that had the distinct hint of...guilt.

Disappointment flooded Holly’s chest and sunk her heart into the pit of her stomach. So he was regretting the kiss, then. She balled her fists at her sides to keep them from shaking. She should have known it was all too good to be true. That she had given her heart away too quickly. That she’d been fooled yet again. That she was silly for getting caught up in the romance of their circumstances, and the hope that Christmas still ironically brought her year after year.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she managed, her tone cool.

“You should be,” he said. “Because it’s your fault.”

Holly frowned at the accusation and wrapped her hand around the coffee cup still on the counter. “How’s that?” she asked.

Max shrugged and the corner of his lip tugged in amusement. “I could have slept better if I wasn’t thinking about that kiss.”

Holly’s pressed her lips together so he couldn’t see how much this pleased her. She searched his face in bewilderment. “I...I see,” she stammered.

“Is it too much for a guy to hope that you might have been thinking about me, too?”

He met her gaze from under the hood of his lashes, his rugged face suddenly taken over by a vulnerable expression. Holly’s nerves immediately dissolved and her insides flooded with warmth. “I didn’t sleep much, either,” she admitted.

“Guess we’ll both be in need of a nap today, then,” Max said. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously in the sunlight that poured through the window.

Holly offered a noncommittal shrug as she watched him. “That might be nice.”

The corner of his lip curled into a suggestive smile. He stepped toward her, reaching out a hand to skim her waist, and Holly shuddered back a surge of fresh heat at the pleasure the small gesture ignited.

“How about a little something to tide us over?” he asked, his voice husky with desire as he leaned into her.

Holly lifted her chin as her lips met his. His mouth was familiar now, his lips sweet to the taste. She ran her hands down his chest, feeling the soft wool of his sweater. As Max’s strong hands cupped her hips she slid her hands higher up against the back of his neck, massaging the silky locks of his hair as she pressed her body close into his, her body throbbing with arousal and need.

Sensing her response, Max groaned into her mouth as his tongue continued its dance. Grazing his hands lower to clutch the back of her thighs, he lifted her effortlessly onto the counter, and she parted her knees to allow him to press closer against her. Their mouths were frantic now, insatiable in the pleasure the union of their lips could bring. Max slid his hands from her hips and pulled at the bottom of her shirt until his fingers were free to wander up her bare stomach. Holly shuddered at the sensation—a long, deep quiver that pulsed the insides of her thighs. She wrapped her legs tighter around Max’s chiseled frame as his fingers splayed to caress her breast over the lace of her bra. He found the center and began to tease the bud with the tips of his fingers until Holly groaned and tore her lips from his mouth. She buried her face in the nape of his neck as he stroked her tender flesh and then slowly pulled back the flimsy fabric until his warm hand was smooth and soft against her skin.

Tilting her head, she accepted the spine-tingling graze of his mouth against the nape of her neck, clutching the broad strength of his shoulders against her as his fingers performed their magic.

Max sighed into her ear as her body shuddered against his. He slid his hand slowly down her stomach and glanced up from beneath his hooded brow. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glazed as he met her heated stare. Holly’s chest rose and fell with lingering desire and with a grin, she reached over and smoothed his hair.

Sliding off the counter, Holly ran a shaking hand through her own chestnut locks, her skin still quivering from Max’s touch. “I suppose we should eat...” She glanced halfheartedly toward the stove.

“You certainly have a way of stirring up my appetite.” Max grinned, lifting an eyebrow and Holly felt her insides melt. Turning to the stove, he lifted a lid off a saucepan and asked, “What’s for breakfast? Mmm... French toast.” He turned to her. “Why don’t you let me serve you for a change?”

Holly smiled. “With pleasure, sir.”

Max plated the food, then pulled a stool away from the counter and sat down, patting the chair next to him for her to join him. She couldn’t remember the last time she had sat in her kitchen and enjoyed a meal. It was usually taken over by staff. Not that she minded, but she had to admit there was something deliciously casual about eating breakfast in this setting.

“Are you going back to the Christmas Market today?” Max asked as he cut into his food.

Holly took a gulp of coffee, trying to pull her mind away from the intensity of their embrace. “No, I sold out yesterday, actually. Five hundred dollars richer.”

“Really?” Max raised a brow.

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Last I saw you were handing the jars away for free,” he said with a shrug.

Holly stifled a smile and sipped at her coffee, unable to fully tear her mind from the experience of his touch. The sensation of his hands on her skin had only served to make her want more. She no longer had an appetite. Not for food, anyway. There was only one thing she had a taste for and it was Max’s mouth pressed firmly on her own. Listlessly, she dragged her fork over the plate. Even the waft of cinnamon and vanilla couldn’t entice her.

“Do you have more business in town today?”

Max paused. “Maybe. Depends how the day goes.”

Holly nodded slowly, trying to comprehend. “You’re almost finished with it, then?”

Max set down his fork and turned to her. “I’ll actually be disappointed to leave,” he said, his voice husky.

Then don’t,
Holly wanted to shout. Instead, she asked, “Will you still stay through Christmas?”

Max shifted his eyes. “That’s the plan.”

“And then back to New York,” she stated sadly.

Max stirred in his seat and reached for his coffee mug. “Do you ever miss city life?”

Holly had considered the question herself many times over the years, and dozens more times in the past week. There were elements of city life that were inevitably attractive: the shopping, the excitement, the din of the crowds, the buzz of the traffic. There were times when life in this small town felt almost too quiet, but those times were fleeting and rare. She made sure of that.

“Occasionally,” she answered honestly.

Beside her, Max’s posture seemed to shift. “Do you get back to Boston often?”

“No,” she said. “I haven’t been back since I moved to Maple Woods.”

Max appeared baffled, a line creasing his forehead. “Not even to visit your family?”

“Oh,” Holly said. She hesitated, lowering her eyes and forcing a shy smile to cover the awkwardness she felt. “I don’t have a family, actually. Not...anymore.”

She lifted her gaze to Max. He was watching her with an unsurpassed intensity, his eyes flashing with shock. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“How could you?” she asked mildly, setting down her fork. She realized that all this time she had been suspicious of Max, sensing that he was being evasive and overly mysterious, when she herself had hardly been forthcoming.

He slid a large, heavy hand onto her knee. A tingle rushed the length of her spine and pulsed at her tailbone as he grazed his thumb over her thigh. “Can I ask what happened?”

Holly took a deep breath and held it there. “It’s not—not something I’ve talked about in a long time, really.”

Tears sprung to her eyes, hot and thick and precariously close to spilling over and turning her into a blubbering idiot. She forced them back. She couldn’t fall apart again. Not now. There had to come a time when she could talk about this without getting choked up. Maybe this was the time.