Christmas in Kentbury Page 9
“You look great,” I say gasping for air as I peel my lips away from hers. “Truthfully, more than great. Astonishing.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself, sir,” she says playfully. “You had those clothes hiding in your duffle bag?”
“I improvised,” I explain. “The restaurant where I found the reservation has a jacket-required dress code.” There are a few shops in the mezzanine of the hotel where I found a pair of slacks, a dress shirt, and a blazer.
“This is the second time in my life that I’ve seen you wearing something formal,” she says covering her mouth as she tries to stifle a chuckle. “The first time was at my graduation.”
“Are you amused?”
“Just remembering that day. You looked dashing, except for your tennis shoes.”
“Hey, I tried my best,” I say looking down at my shoes.
At least, I’m wearing a pair of boots. They don’t clash like the royal blue sneakers I wore that day.
“So where are we going?” she asks as we march toward the elevators.
“The Sky Riser,” I inform her.
“The restaurant on top?” she asks with starry eyes.
Since it’s snowing hard, I requested a table in one of the hotel’s restaurants. That’s the only one that had availability on such late notice anyway. If given a choice though, I’d rather order room service, champagne, strawberries, and ice cream. I’d start the night by peeling off the little black dress she’s wearing. I want to know what’s under it. Some lace and silk or just her silky skin?
Not today, Miller.
Lee’s palpable excitement stops me from spoiling the perfect date.
“What are you thinking?” She looks at me suspiciously. “I’m pretty good at reading you, but I’ve never seen that face.”
“You don’t want to know,” I say, pulling her into the car as the elevator’s doors slide open.
I push her toward the metal wall, pressing my body against hers. “At least not yet.”
I take her mouth and kiss her hard. Fuck, I’m never going to get enough of her. I’m lost in her, wishing to do more but stop. I have to set boundaries. Though, I don’t know where I’m going to find the strength to hold the urge to drag her to my room and make her mine, but I won’t fuck this up.
“We have to stop.” I groan, barely remembering my own name and am surprised by the roughness of my own voice.
For a long moment, we look at each other. She’s breathing as rapidly as I am. Her eyes are so dark I can’t see her pupils.
“Somehow, I don’t think you believe your own words, Mr. Miller.” She gives me a cheeky smile.
I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “Have I told you you’re beautiful?”
“No,” she says, her face softening. “We can order room service,” she proposes with a suggestive voice.
“Maybe on Wednesday, today I’m taking you on a proper date,” I say, fixing my jacket and my pants as the elevator reaches the top floor.
Sixteen
Knightly
Sparks fly all around us. It’s like fireworks burst between us. The desire to have his hands all over me increases. Dinner be damned; take me to my room. The urge I feel draws me closer to him.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks.
Heath glances at me as we wait for the hostess to show us to our seats.
“Just a penny for all of them,” I say still catching my breath from our kiss. “There’s a lot going on in my mind.”
Especially how I can’t seem to grasp this moment. My stomach is tied into a big knot and my heart races frantically. I’m on a date with Heath Miller, and instead of having something smart to say, I’m just focusing on his strong hands and his muscular arms. I stare at his broad, powerful shoulders encased by a formal jacket. He’s always attractive but now looking at him dressed formally is unsettling.
“That’s a lot of energy wasted,” he says with a low, dark velvety voice that slides down from my ears and hits right between my legs.
And he has to throw that sexy, stupid smirk that makes my insides curl and my ovaries explode. It’s the sensual curve of his mouth and the things I bet he can do with those lips.
“What can I do to make you forget home?” He interrupts my daydreaming with his rough voice. “If you want to talk about what’s going on with the resort, I can tell you what I know. As long as you promise to put it on the back burner for the rest of the trip.”
I sober up at the mention of the resort. Why in the world would my brother want me far when he’s in trouble?
“Why did he go to you?” I start with the basic question. “Don’t get me wrong, I get it. You’re his best friend. Like Hops and I, we’d rather call you first than call our siblings.”
He takes my hand, his calloused fingers caressing the inside of my wrist, making me shiver.
“Between the state-of-the-art resort they opened in Stowe and Airbnb, the bookings dropped dramatically,” he explains.
“Why didn’t he tell us?”
“You’ll have to take that one up with him,” he says, but I’m positive that he knows the answer to it.
“Like he’ll answer. He thinks he knows everything. Every time I make a suggestion, he shoots it down, like the spa,” I protest. “And now he owns fifty percent of the place, which means he’s going to ignore any ideas that I bring to the table.”
He shakes his head. “I own fifty percent of the resort.”
My eyes widen, and I forget how to breathe. King didn’t dare to sell the resort. We have rules, a tradition to follow.
“How?” I ask angrily. “He sold it to you?”
“Yes, but in ten years he can buy me out by paying off the loan with interest,” he explains.
I straighten my back, set my hands on the table and speak with my best business voice. “The changes we’ve done so far are working. If we add the spa, it’ll bring guests all year round. We can sell it as a couple’s weekend, a girl’s weekend, you name it. And the vineyard next door is the cherry on top.”
“You’re adorable,” he says, both dark brows furrowed right in the middle. “We’re not talking business, Knightly Rose.”
“Harsh, full name throwing doesn’t look good on you, handsome.” I try to smooth things. “Think of this as an investment. I’m sure you’re getting some kind of revenue while you own the place.”
“Tomorrow I have a conference call with Holden about the vineyard. I’m going to see my financial advisor and my lawyer too,” he continues. “I’m not saying yes to anything but know that you’ll be at the table when we start making decisions about the future of the vineyard and everything will be taken into account.”
“I don’t understand why Kingston would do that, sell part of our heritage.” I try not to sound annoyed or resentful. It’s impossible.
“It was in serious trouble.” He sounds hurt. “He was at the point where if he didn’t do something drastic, he would lose the lodge. In the larger scheme of things, that’s the part of the Harris Estate that used to bring the most revenue. You lose it, and the other two aren’t that far behind.”
“He was looking at the big picture,” I say thinking the way King does. “If something has to go, it’d be the B&B.”
My blood freezes when he tells me that King wanted to sell it, but a rush of relief and comfort warm me up as I realize what Heath did.
“You saved my B&B,” I state, staring into his blue eyes. “Is that why the deed is now under my name?”
He nods. “No one can touch it. It’s your life.”
Ever since Cassie came into his life, he’s been working hard and finding ways to make a living for both of them while growing the business. He has a financial planner—one of his customers who lives in New York—who has helped him diversify his portfolio and make sure that Cassie has a comfortable future.
“I’m touched, but you have to think about Cassie and your future. Why would you risk your money on a place that might go under?”
&nb
sp; “Because the B&B is yours. That’s been your dream since you were little. There’s no way I’d let anything happen to it. I always take care of my girls.”
Heath’s actions, words, and gestures are melting my heart. It’s true, he’s always taken care of his girls. That’s what he calls Cassie and me.
“Please tell me this didn’t tamper with our relationship,” he says with an urgent and desperate tone.
Heath’s a confident man. The few times he lets his vulnerability show is around me, and it’s usually about Cassie.
“I swear I did it because—”
“You don’t like when he tries to take advantage of me,” I interrupt him.
It’s just like the time when I was ten and I came back from trick-or-treating with my friends, King confiscated my candy. Later that night, Heath brought back not only most of the loot King had taken away from me, but he went with Holden from door to door to get me more candy.
And if possible, I fall in love even more.
“Are our five days still on?” he asks hesitantly.
“Swoon me away, noble sir.”
Seventeen
Knightly
It’s so easy to lose track of what we have when it’s right in the palm of our hand. In just a few days, I’ve come to remember that I live in paradise. It’s colder in Vermont than it is in Manhattan. That’s one point to NYC. But nothing compares to the snowy mountains, blue skies and the picturesque views of the town nestled between a curtain of firs.
The buildings towering around us aren’t as appealing. I accept that I’m taken by the bright lights adorning the streets. There’s a holiday feel, but it’s not as intense or as inviting as the one we have in Kentbury.
The ice rink at Rockefeller center is okay, maybe even cute. It’s nothing like the beauty of our big lake in Kentbury, skirted by the vineyard and a few cabins, and filled with a peaceful silence. We don’t have big lines of people waiting for their turn to skate for just an hour on the lake.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Heath asks as I shiver.
Cold oozes through the soft cashmere sweater I wear.
A couple of layers should be enough, I said as I got dressed.
This is nothing compared to Vermont’s winter, I assured to myself as I left the hotel room.
Don’t be a wimp, Lee, I chide myself as a sting of cold air hits my face.
“Do you need my jacket?” Heath offers, his eyes creased at the corner.
“Nah, as soon as we’re skating, I’ll warm up,” I insist as we enter the VIP area. “So why exactly did we pay more than a hundred dollars?”
“Well, you won’t be freezing outside while you wait for your turn,” he explains, taking me into his powerful embrace and rubbing his hands on my back to warm me up.
I look up to him. His heavy-lidded gaze assesses me. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers.
Heath cups my face with one hand and lowers his head. I slide my arms around his neck and raise myself to meet him. My eyes drift shut when his mouth captures mine, his tongue flicks inside. My knees weaken. My heart gallops in my chest. The touch sends shivers of desire through my body, replacing the cold with a wildfire that warms every cell of my body and threatens to melt the entire city.
He kisses me gently. Slowly. Deep.
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this. If anything, I would give everything to be kissed by Heath Miller for the rest of my life.
“Next,” someone yells, breaking the spell.
Heath tears his mouth free, groaning in protest. His breathing is heavy, just like his gaze.
“I want to go back to the hotel,” I request.
“What?” he asks in a gravelly voice.
“Sir, you’re next,” someone keeps calling us but at the moment nothing matters.
“We could be in my room, ordering some food,” I say suggestively.
Heath places his fingers on my cheek, caressing it. “We can’t skip any steps, Miss Harris. As much as I’d love to drag you back to my room. This is going to go slowly.”
“Even if it kills us with desire?”
“Where’s your patience?” He kisses the back of my neck. “Imagine how good it’ll be when it finally happens … So fucking good.” He winks at me.
* * *
For years, I’ve had the illusion that skating at Rockefeller center is magical. I blame John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale for letting me believe that the most romantic moment in one’s life would happen in Manhattan as I hold the hand of the man I love. Even when I spotted a gleam of desire in Heath’s mesmerizing blue eyes, the hour at the ice rink wasn’t as life-changing as I had hoped.
In Kentbury, at night we have the light of the moon to illuminate the lake. We’re surrounded by trees, the mountains, and snow.
“Maybe I put too much pressure on the ice rink, and that’s why it didn’t live up to its expectations,” I conclude as we enter the hotel.
Heath’s busy with his phone. Maybe he’s texting with Cassie or talking to one of his employees. I’m sure he’s not paying attention to my rant. I don’t blame him. He’s not one to watch rom-coms and expect that special moment to happen.
I am a different story. For the past eighteen years, I’ve been waiting for him to stand at the end of my driveway and serenade me with a boombox like Lloyd did in Say Anything. If not that, maybe he can sing “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You,” like Patrick Verona did in Ten Things I Hate About You. I still hold out hope that he might list all the reasons why he loves me when it’s New Year’s Eve like Harry did with Sally.
“It’s a touristy spot, like the artificial pond we have on Main Street,” Heath says as we head toward the elevator. “Not everything you watch in movies can live in real life and vice versa.”
He slumps his shoulders and sighs. “Serendipity was actually filmed at Wollman Rink, in Central Park,” he says as a matter-of-fact.
“And there’s that. Though, I guess it’s romantic for someone who doesn’t have a frozen lake in their backyard,” I say.
“There’s another selling point. Remind me about it next week, please,” he requests. “Isn’t the lake part of the vineyard?”
“Technically, but the McCalls always let everyone enjoy it. Are you planning on making it private?” I glance at him tempted to ask him questions about his plans and wanting to give him ideas.
“You’ll find out next week,” he says. “As I explained earlier, this is a vacation. You’re off the clock. When was the last time you even went on vacation?”
I stare at the lights twinkling on the big Christmas tree. It’s been years since any of us have gone on a trip that doesn’t involve work. The only time my brothers or I leave home is to attend a conference or for training. We love what we do, but we’re consumed by work.
“You don’t take time off either,” I reply casually, stepping into the elevator and smiling at the couple who joins us.
“When Cassie and I visit Holden, we’re on vacation. I check out completely,” he says, poking the number to our floor.
“You call me,” I argue.
“That’s because I need to hear your voice every day,” he mumbles. “It’s almost impossible for me to exist when you’re not around.”
He lowers his forehead to mine. My heart kicks against my ribs, and it’s not only the fact that he’s right in my personal space, but that he’s admitting that he needs me as much as I do him. I stretch my neck and kiss him lightly. And I hate that we have other people in the elevator, there’s no privacy.
As soon as we get closer to our rooms, Heath suggests we go to his room. When we step inside, my mouth opens slightly in awe.
His room is bigger than mine. There’s a table for two on the left side next to the balcony. There’s a trail of red rose petals leading toward it. Instead of candles, Christmas lights are hanging from the walls. As he closes the door, Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl” begins to play.
Eighteen
Knightly
Heath looks at me with a predatory gaze I’ve never seen before. The heat in his eyes makes me hotter than the sun on a summer’s day. My heartbeat pounds faster and harder as he closes the distance between us.
“You want to eat?” His voice is deep and sexy.
“Is there a second option?” I try to sound suggestive, but my voice comes out like a croak or a gasp, I’m not entirely sure what that sound is, but I clamp my mouth, flustered.
“You’re adorable.” His eyes shine tenderly. His sexy laugh vibrates through my entire body, and I want to press myself against him and kiss him. I want to feel his beard against my skin.
His hands slide behind my head as he watches me with an intense gaze. His mouth devours mine. The kiss is hungry. It’s urgent. The taste of him feeds my own hunger along with his scent and his heat.
“I’ll never get enough of you,” he says in a husky voice, flicking his tongue against mine.
We embrace as we kiss. His hands on my back. His fingers reaching for the hem of my sweater. I slide my hands under his sweater, moaning as I feel the warmth of his skin and trace the ripples of his muscles.
He pulls me down to the bed, drawing me over his lap when his phone begins to ring. We ignore it. Breathing and panting as we keep kissing and touching. Then, my phone starts ringing instead of his. When I recognize Dad’s ringtone, I jolt.
“Cassie,” I say, peeling myself from his body and taking my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans.
“Hey, Dad,” I greet him between pants.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” he asks.
“Yeah, of course,” I say catching up my breath. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Cassie’s bedtime, and she hasn’t spoken to either one of you,” he reminds me. I check the time, and it’s fifteen past eight.