Shannon stared at the blinking cursor of her computer screen and at the still unwritten message she’d been trying to compose—with a stunning lack of success—for the past hour. She’d gotten as far as:
Dear Bram,
How are you?
Then she ran out of ideas.
It was, however, two weeks before Christmas and, much as she would love to see him again and not ever have another argument with him, they still hadn’t recovered from their Halloween standoff. A month and a half of avoidance on both their parts was hardly healthy relationship behavior.
Although, he had tried to contact her once…
She’d seen his number come up as a missed call on her phone back in mid-November. And she’d waited and waited, hoping he’d call back or send her some other kind of message.
But he hadn’t.
Then it was Thanksgiving and, ever since, she’d been working sixty-hour weeks between her regular job at The Ashland Hotel and the transitioning she’d been doing to prepare for the official sale of Holiday Quinn, which would be coming up a few weeks into the New Year.
All these moments of busy insanity hadn’t stopped her from thinking about Bram, though. A lot. But the longer they didn’t talk, the more awkward it felt to try to strike up a conversation out of nowhere. Even if that conversation was one-sided and electronic.
I hope everything has been going well for you.
I’ve miss you so much—
No, no, no, no!
She deleted that last line.
I’ve been thinking about you and had wondered if you were still planning to visit Holiday Quinn during the Christmas/New Year’s Celebration Week. You’d made the reservation several months ago, but…
Shannon paused.
…but you walked out of the inn without a word and, since then, we’ve both been too stubborn to reach out or to apologize.
Definitely no.
Not that this wasn’t the truth, but it just wasn’t something that should be said via e-mail.
…but I would understand if your holiday plans have changed.
Please let me know when you have a moment. I look forward to hearing from you soon.
With best wishes,
Shannon
She took a deep breath and clicked SEND.
Then she rested her arms on her desk and flopped her head down on top of them. One measly e-mail and she was as exhausted as if she’d just run a marathon.
Jake, who was at the inn helping to pull the Christmas decoration boxes out of storage, strolled by her office, glanced once in her direction and laughed. “You look like you’re ready for a long winter’s nap, Mrs. Claus. Need a cup of coffee?”
Shannon raised her head up just far enough to shake it. “I need more than a cup,” she admitted. “A vat of peppermint-mocha lattés topped with whipped cream and red-and-green sprinkles would, actually, be perfect. Can you tell Santa to bring me that?”
He grinned. “Only if you’re good.” He pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket and tossed the colorful pamphlet on her desk. “Spain,” he said simply. “Think about it.”
Then he disappeared down the hall, whistling “Here Comes Santa Claus” as he went.
She groaned.
Jake certainly knew how to entice her. Almost every day in the two weeks since the Bakers had enthusiastically agreed to buy Holiday Quinn (with Margaret Ashland as their adviser, when needed), Jake had been plying Shannon with travel brochures—all featuring alluring places around the globe. He’d already tempted her with seductive, exotic locales in the Caribbean, South America and a number of Pacific islands, and he was now working his way through the wonders of Europe and Asia.
She flipped open the information on Spain. The sunny image of the gorgeous Costa del Sol stood in marked contrast to the snowy image outside her window. She wrapped her arms around herself—hoping the cable-knit sweater she wore would ward off some of the Arctic-like chill in the air around her—and she daydreamed about strolling along the lush, vibrant, nearly subtropical beaches of southern Spain. Mmm.
The phone jarred her out of her fantasy, and she reached for it reflexively, without checking the Caller ID first.
“Holiday Quinn,” she said.
“Shannon?” a male voice she hadn’t heard in six weeks said. The mere rumble of him saying that single word—her name—registered deep in her abdomen, and she realized just how much she’d missed him.
“Bram.” It came out soft and breathy, but she didn’t care. She felt lucky to be able to speak at all.
“I got your e-mail,” he said.
“Oh, yes. Of course.” She slowly exhaled. Ah. That was why he was calling. She steeled herself for his next comments, certain a cancellation was coming…and then, she knew, she’d never see or hear from him again.
“I’ve missed you,” he said. “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you that.”
And she just melted into a puddle.
She apologized, too, for not reaching out to him sooner and confessed to having missed him a great deal. “I think we need to talk,” she said, feeling the elation of hope for the first time in a long time. “In person.”
He agreed and said he’d called to ask her to keep his weeklong reservation. He’d blocked out the vacation time back in early-October and fully intended to use it.
“I’d really like for us to discuss what, exactly, happened on Halloween, Shannon. To see if we can move forward from there.”
“Okay,” she whispered. Then she made herself add, “There have been some changes since you were last here.”
The pause on the line was interminable.
“With you? Your relationships?” he asked finally. “Is there…somebody else now?”
“No!” she said quickly. “It’s nothing like that.” But she found she couldn’t bring herself to tell him about the impending sale of the inn over the phone. It seemed too impersonal a method for someone like Bram. Someone who’d grown so attached to the place.
Fortunately, he didn’t seem to require any further explanations. “Oh, good,” he said, relief in his voice. And he left it at that.
Shannon knew in that moment that he hadn’t gotten himself a new significant other in the interim either, and she was surprised by the power of her gratitude for that small blessing. No doubt, he would have had the opportunity, especially in a populous area like Minneapolis/St. Paul or on one of his many business trips to Milan or Tokyo or wherever.
Instead, they talked about the weather for a few minutes, determining that it was equally cold in both Minnesota and Wisconsin—hardly news for December in the Midwest—but that was the kind of easy chitchat Shannon needed after their earlier, heart-pounding conversation. Then, before they hung up, they settled on the plan to spend as much of the upcoming holiday week as possible together.
She was sweating, she noticed, as she took her hand off the receiver and saw the wetness left behind on the phone. And she had to completely pull off her sweater for a few minutes and walk around the office in just the t-shirt she’d worn underneath until she could lower her body temperature to a range closer to normal again.
All signs—physical and emotional—pointed toward one scary realization: She was far more invested in her relationship with Bram than she’d ever wanted to acknowledge and, soon, the fate of their future would be determined.
She couldn’t help but hope that everything would magically work out, of course. Wasn’t that what angels and Christmas miracles were for?
But she had an uncomfortable foreboding sensation that lingered deep within her and carved out little pockets of worry in her gut. She couldn’t help but fear she’d been right from the very beginning on two important points:
One, that Bram’s interest in her was tied to Holiday Quinn and would fade quickly without her continued connection to this place.
And, two, that she and Bram might share a steamy romance for a few seasons but, ultimately, they were too different to be destined to stay together for long.
***
Bram pulled into the Holiday Quinn parking lot at 6:47 p.m. Christmas Eve, turned off the car engine and opened the driver’s side door, taking several fortifying breaths of the wintry air.
The scent of snow mingling with pine grounded him in the moment. And the flashing holiday lights, which surrounded the inn with color and brightened up the dark December sky, reminded him that it was, in fact, supposed to be a time of celebration.
He’d been on the road much of the day, driving with a feeling of nervous anticipation usually reserved only for big corporate takeovers or long sit-down conversations with his father. Since it had been several years since he’d experienced either, the tense edginess that had been lurking inside of him all day could only mean one thing: Shannon.
He wasn’t a man prone to doubting himself or second guessing his decisions, but he’d been mentally running scenarios for hours about how it would go seeing her again after nearly two months apart. Would they fall right back into the patterns they’d begun when they first met…or had that only been an illusion? How well did they know each other really? And was he a fool to care so much about what she thought of him? Or to imagine that they had a shot at a life together?
Bram didn’t know the answers to any of these questions, but he was determined to find out once and for all.
He stepped out of the car, grabbed his bag and, with determined strides, marched toward the front entrance.
It was like the movie set of Holiday Inn come to life. When he walked inside, it seemed as though they’d imported the soundstage for the film and transplanted it to eastern Wisconsin.
Guests milled around the lobby like cast members, dressed in cozy winter garments and sipping cups of cocoa with candy canes as stirring sticks.
Snowflake clings adorned every window and the soft sounds of “White Christmas,” complete with jingling bells, played in the background along with the hum and chatter of the happy couples.
There was a hint of peppermint in the air (from the candy canes, no doubt) melding with the scent of pine from the large Christmas tree in the corner. A beautifully decorated blue spruce, lavishly trimmed with tiny white lights and silver and gold ornaments.
Bram saw an angel in white atop the tree, complete with gossamer wings, a fur-lined cloak and glinting silver sequins…but he knew the real angel was dressed in a red sweater and standing behind the counter, checking in the guests.
“Ah. Hartwick, you’ve returned,” Jake the Prick said coldly.
The chill from behind him made Bram shiver as he turned to stare down the guy. He gave his best attempt at a Machiavellian scowl. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes, I have.”
There was something different about the assistant this time, though, Bram realized as Jake stared back. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but he felt a definite undercurrent of change behind Jake’s expression. Almost as though the assistant knew something that he felt gave him an advantage. Jake looked bolder as a result.
The mask is fully off. The jester has gone into fighting mode.
Bram intensified his glare at the other man and watched as Jake’s green eyes twinkled with a brighter light of cunning than he had ever seen.
One side of The Prick’s mouth quirked upward. Then, as if laughing at an inside joke that Bram wasn’t in on, the assistant said, “Hope you’ll enjoy your final stay.” There was a significant pause. “Of the year.”
Before Bram could respond, he heard his name. He looked up and saw Shannon waving to him from behind the counter. When he glanced back at Jake, he found that the other man had disappeared. Odd.
He walked up to Shannon. It’d been too long since he’d last seen her in person. Not that he’d forgotten anything, just that she was more vibrant, more alluring than even he had remembered. He had to tell his heart to slow down, force himself to take deeper breaths before he could speak.
“It’s good to see you, Shannon,” he managed. “Very good.”
She didn’t reply at all at first. She just smiled at him. That was enough.
Then, finally, she said, “It’s good to see you, too.” She fiddled with the computer for a moment before handing him his keycard. “The Astaire Suite is waiting for you.”
He took the plastic card from her, caressing her hand in the process. He could see her pause. Hold her breath. Swallow a time or two. A line was beginning to form behind them. He knew he had her attention for only a moment more.
“When will you be free?” he asked in a low voice.
“Ten-thirty,” she murmured. “The evening events should be over no later than that.”
Bram picked up his few items and leaned across the counter until his head was only a few inches from hers. “Until then, Shannon.”
***
Her heart pounded in double time as she knocked on the door to the Astaire Suite. Seeing Bram again, just a few hours ago, brought rushing back every single memory they’d shared since February.
Shannon was surprised by how many there were, despite the fact that they’d only gotten together in person on scattered holiday weekends. But it was amazing how fast you could get to know someone if you were motivated…
Or, at least, think you’d gotten to know someone.
Nervousness made her almost turn away, but Bram was quick to open the door. Too quick.
“Hi,” he said, his voice deep and husky, his eyes trained on her face. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned all the way down the front, and his feet were bare below his black slacks.
“Hi,” she whispered back.
He motioned her inside the room. “What have you got there?”
Lost in the intensity of his stare, she’d almost forgotten the basket she was carrying. It was a gift of sorts, being that tonight was Christmas Eve and all.
“A present for you,” she replied, setting it down in a nearby corner. “For later.”
One of his dark eyebrows rose to mid-forehead and a smile tugged his lips upward. He closed the door behind them and then nodded at the table closest to the bed, where a gift-wrapped package sat prettily in wait.
“Got one of those for you, too. Thought we’d save it until Christmas morning, though.” He took a step toward her and pulled her into his arms with a smooth, proprietary movement. “Unless—well, unless you aren’t planning to be here then.” His voice held an unasked question.
She met his gaze and held it. “Bram, my plan was to stay with you tonight. Unless, of course, you’d rather—”
But he cut her off, blanketing her mouth with a kiss so passionate she felt its heat singe her toes.
Shannon wrapped her arms around him, underneath his open shirt so she could run her palms against his bare skin, and let herself be consumed by the flames of their reunion.
“That’s all I needed to know,” he said in her ear, a moment before he stripped off her red wool sweater and divested her of her bra, her skirt and her panties, too.
She, in turn, tugged off his dress shirt and got as far as unfastening his belt before his impatience got the better of him. He relieved her of that task, finishing it himself with a rapidity approaching the speed of light.
And before she could blink, he was on top of her. His bare chest against hers. His lean legs entangled with her own. Their lips and tongues connecting in a dance that merged their whole bodies together.
Shannon’s breath caught when he entered her with a graceful but powerful thrust. It felt destined for them to be as one. Like the fit of two interlocking puzzles pieces. And, yet, it was unsettling, too. She had already lost all notion of where her flesh ended and his began. More than ever, it felt dangerous to have her boundaries disintegrate like this. To have no control in his presence. No tangible sense of self. He effortlessly rendered her immobile, dependent and fuzzy-brained from lust.
Well, no.
It had become more than lust.
There was admiration, affection, respect, friendship and other qualities present there as well. Maybe it was too soon to confess to being in love with the man, but what Shannon felt when she was around Bram was far more than mere infatuation.
As much as she was thrilled by their physical compatibility, it was that rare feeling of oneness and contentment that he brought out in her when she was in his arms that challenged her the most. It convinced her that, for the first time in her life, she may have actually found The One.
Unfortunately, it was at exactly the time when, more than anything, she needed to be independent and unencumbered.
***
It was sometime after midnight when Bram awoke, having just had, perhaps, the best make-up sex of his life, followed by the deepest post-coital nap. But he wasn’t above doing it again a time or two before daybreak, just to make sure he’d really and truly reached a personal record.
One thing, though, kept nagging at him about the make-up sex—and it wasn’t the sex part that was cause for concern. He and Shannon still hadn’t spoken a word to each other about the Halloween blowup. It was this massive white elephant in the room, which might as well have been sitting on the loveseat like a gigantic Christmas present with a big red bow on its head.
The more Shannon avoided discussing the incident with him, the more worried about it he became. Not that he’d actually given her much of a chance to talk about anything that night.
“Hey,” she said, flipping toward him and smiling sleepily. “You’re up.”
He nestled against her, letting his hard shaft nudge at the space between her legs. “You could say that.”
She laughed. God, he loved that sound.
“You’re insatiable, Mr. Hartwick,” she murmured, but she didn’t pull away. One of her hands snaked around his hips and began to trace patterns on his butt cheeks. He felt himself getting even harder.
He moaned, but another involuntary sound competed for attention in their bed. The distinctive rumbled of his stomach. He hadn’t eaten in hours.
“You’re hungry,” Shannon said, pulling back. “We should get you some food.”
He tried to protest so he could keep her next to him. “Oh, no. You’re plenty delicious, Miss Quinn.” He sent her a wolfish grin and licked his lips. “I’ll make a meal out of you.”
She chuckled in return but, nevertheless, managed to escape his grasp. He watched as she slipped out of bed and padded naked across the room to the place she’d left her basket. Retrieving something from it, she returned, glanced at the clock and then offered him the wrapped object.
“Merry Christmas,” she said.
He took the proffered gift. “Thank you.”
Shannon motioned for him to open it. “It’s part one of your present. The edible part.”
He made quick work of ripping off the pretty gold paper and uncovered a sturdy cake box. When he opened the box, he found it contained a dense but delicious-looking confection. Familiar somehow, but in the dark he couldn’t easily place it.
“It’s from that Eastern European bakery we went to when we were in Madison,” she explained. “I special ordered it for you. Maybe you’ve had something like it before, but I thought it was interesting. It’s called Cesnica—the Serbian Christmas or ‘Money’ bread. There’s a silver coin baked inside, and it’s considered good luck to whoever finds it.”
Bram unwrapped the bread, broke off a piece with his fingers and took a healthy bite, chewing carefully to make sure he didn’t swallow a coin if he should happen to come across one. “Mmm,” he murmured. “It’s good.”
Then he broke off a bite-sized piece for Shannon and trailed it along her lower lip until she opened up for him. The look of delight on her face as she chewed was too much for him. He had to do this again.
He fed her another bite and another. She finally responded by pushing him down on the bed and dropping soft bread morsels into his mouth as she kissed his face, his jaw, his neck.
Then he got the brilliant idea of scattering breadcrumbs on her chest and devouring them one at a time—“I’m Hansel, you’re Gretel,” he murmured, “and this is the breadcrumb trail in the deep, dark forest”—but she returned the favor with such devilish enthusiasm that it made him pant with a different kind of hunger.
Her clever tongue caught bits of bread on its way to licking his torso clean. But he wasn’t done feasting on her yet, and it was he who finally found the lucky silver coin in a hunk of crumbled bread, somewhere in the region of her bellybutton.
He laid the coin on her heart. “I don’t need a token to tell me I’m a lucky man, Shannon. I already know.” Then he dipped his head to taste more of her—a part of her body that looked inviting enough for a banquet.
And so they played.
Bram thought if he could just keep her right here, in this very spot, he could make her happy forever. Was it too much to hope she’d want that, too?
***
Christmas morning was off to a rushed start as Bram watched Shannon hastily put on her clothes from the day before and smooth down her auburn hair with a grimace.
“The brunch begins in about an hour,” she told him. “I have to run back to my room to shower and dress, but I hope we can spend some time talking later today.”
“Hey, I’ll be here relaxing all week long,” he said with a contented grin, brushing away a few breadcrumbs still hiding between the sheets. “I’ll look forward to having you to myself again soon, but I’m not sure if I’ll make it down to the brunch. I’m still full from eating all of that Christmas bread.”
She laughed and sat beside him for a moment at the edge of the bed. “There’s another gift for you over there.” She waved her palm toward the basket. “You can open it up this morning, if you’d like. Sorry I have to leave so soon.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know it’s your job.”
A look of sadness crossed her face that Bram didn’t quite understand.
“I have something for you, too, before you go, and I’d really like to give it to you now,” he added, reaching across the bed to the table on the other side. He plucked up the wrapped package and handed it to her.
She pulled off the paper to reveal a full Lathericious gift set—shower gel, refreshing body mist, luxurious hand lotion and scented soap.
He waited and watched as she read the name of the fragrance, her eyes widening. “Bram, it says—” She pointed to the label.
“Shannon’s Gift,” he supplied for her. “Yes, that’s what it’s called. It’s our brand-new bath and body line, named specifically for someone I know…” And love, he almost added, but he stopped himself just in time.
Her eyes grew even bigger. “Oh, Bram! You mean this wasn’t just a special label you put on these four items. That there’s more of them? And other people can order them, too?”
He got out of bed, hunted down his briefcase and pulled out the December Lathericious catalog. The “Shannon’s Gift” line was featured prominently on the cover. He handed it to her.
“I’ve been working on this for about six months, Shannon. And, yes, other people can order these specialized products. In fact, about 500,000 units shipped internationally just last week.”
She looked stunned but impressed. He grinned as she squirted some of the body mist into the air and inhaled deeply, taking in the aromatic citrus-ginger scent that had been the special blend he’d requested.
“Mmm…thank you. I love it,” she said.
“And I love you,” he whispered. He hadn’t meant to say the words aloud but, somehow, they slipped out anyway.
She stared at him with those huge blue eyes. Never had his heart been on pause like it was in that instant. He’d been in countless tense business situations—where one word would make the difference between sealing a multimillion-dollar deal or losing it—but this single silent moment was harder on his nerves than any of those had ever been.
Then he heard her voice.
“I love you, too,” she murmured, but she looked more melancholy about it than thrilled.
Never mind. He could be happy for the both of them. He pulled her into his arms, kissed her passionately—his heart finally beating again—and said, “That’s good news, right?”
She shot him a weak smile. “Right.” Then, “I should really go—”
But he didn’t want to let her go. Not now. Not yet.
“How about I open up your second present real quick? Then I’ll let you leave me to my quiet room and my breadcrumbs,” he joked. “There’s still forty minutes before the brunch.”
She nodded but eyed him apprehensively as he tore off the wrapping paper and unearthed a box beneath. The words “fragile” were written in big letters on each side of the box.
“I remember getting the edible gift last night, so I’m guessing this one is not edible, eh?” he asked with a laugh, opening up the top of the box and studying its contents with some puzzlement.
It was a vase. A very familiar-looking one.
He pulled it out in surprise and delight. It looked just like that beautiful, curvy, stained-glass vase that was in the inn’s display cabinet downstairs. “You found another one,” he exclaimed. “Did you have to go to an antique shop in New York to get this one, too?”
She shook her head. “It’s not a different vase. It’s the same one my parents bought. You said you thought it belonged elsewhere, in a private home. Maybe above the fireplace. Somewhere more personal than the hallway of an inn,” she reminded him. “I loved your idea, and I wanted you to do that with this vase.”
Bram didn’t entirely understand. “But this is special to you. You can’t just give it to me—”
“Of course I can,” she said with a gentle smile. “What else could I give the man who has everything?” She paused. “Besides, I want it to have a good home. The Bakers are going to be putting other items in the display case soon, so the vase had to come out anyway.”
He was getting more confused by the second. “The Bakers? Why are they decorating the case now?”
He saw Shannon take a shaky breath.
“They’re the new owners of the inn, Bram.” She squeezed his hand but, then, abruptly stepped back. “I sold Holiday Quinn to them. They’re officially taking over by the end of next month…and I’m leaving.”
The ground seemed to drop from beneath Bram’s feet and the air whooshed out of his lungs. He opened his mouth to speak but was unable to utter a syllable.
Shannon was already standing by the door. “I need to go, but I’ll be back. We’ll talk later, okay?” she promised.
He thought he nodded at her, but he was in such shock that he couldn’t be sure.
When she left, he carefully set the gorgeous, colorful vase back inside the safety of its box so it wouldn’t break, but he didn’t have any similar protective measures for his heart.
He could almost hear it shattering inside his chest.