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Marnie smiled out of the corner of her mouth and reached her arms out to her friend. “Wish me luck on all fronts.”
“Absolutely.” Julie jumped up, towering over Marnie as she hugged her. “Call me as soon as you have a free minute and let me know what the man situation is like. I might take a couple of days off from the delightful repartee with Gina the Hun and join you so I can look for a mountain man of my own.”
* * *
LONG HOURS LATER AND NEARLY out of gas, Marnie crested a hill, following the road as it trailed along a stream that wound through the countryside like a velvet scarf. To the right, in the middle of a sweep of land framed by pine trees, she spotted a sign in navy blue edged with gold announcing The Mirabel Inn. Beyond the sign, a long driveway led up a gentle slope to the inn.
Marnie had never seen anything quite so beautiful and majestic in her whole life. She pulled to a stop on the side of the road, captivated by the sight. Two large wings extended back from either side of the inn’s front entranceway and peaked roofs accented the elegant structure sparkling in the afternoon sun. The Mirabel Inn looked like something out of a fairy tale. Its generous expanse of windows glittered in the light and the wide verandas wrapped around two sides. The eaves adorned with intricately carved wood emphasized the inn’s Victorian feel.
Her research revealed that The Mirabel Inn had once been the private residence of a lumber baron who owned most of the land in this part of the valley. It stood as a magnificent testimonial to his wealth and position in the community during the early years of development in this area of the state.
When Marnie was a child, she’d dreamed of living in just such a place, a dream that was immediately tempered by the reality that only the very rich could afford a house like this. But she could still dream, and she now had days to experience what living in a house like this would be like.
She started along the winding drive leading to the entrance with its tall white columns framing a beautiful front door, festooned with the largest Christmas wreath she’d ever seen, and set off by inlaid glass panes on either side of the door. She passed a towering fir tree, whose brightly colored Christmas lights added to the ambience, before entering a section of the driveway flanked by sprawling rock gardens. She could only imagine the types of flowering plants and shrubs that the gardens would hold in the summer. At the moment they were mulched and ready for winter, the bark chips peeking through a light blanket of snow.
Why would Scott’s client want a mystery guest to assess this inn? There wasn’t a shingle missing off the roof, or a bit of peeling paint anywhere to be seen.
But Marnie’s only concern was getting a few questionnaires filled out while she relaxed by the fireplace in her room with a hot toddy. Add to that a soaker tub where she could soothe her sore muscles after a nice hike along some of the trails she’d read about in the brochure. Absolute heaven.
She parked in front of the door and got out. Clutching Scott’s emailed directions along with her confirmation number, she slung her purse over her shoulder, and crossed the stone driveway toward the entrance. Her hand was on the huge brass doorknob when a little boy raced around the corner of the inn toward her, screaming in excitement as he grabbed the back of her jacket. A small dog that resembled a barrel with legs circled her, its fervent bark adding to the pandemonium.
“Ethan, come back here!” a man, following in pursuit of the child, yelled.
Marnie looked down into the bluest, roundest eyes she’d ever seen, and couldn’t help smiling. The child had what looked like tomato sauce on his cheeks and a grin that made him impossible to resist. “Well, hello there,” she said, kneeling down.
“Sorry,” the man said, coming to a stop in front of her. “My son believes this inn is his private play area, and he’s a little too young to get the message that not everyone who arrives here wants to play with him.” He gathered the boy in his arms.
“And I take it the dog has the same idea,” she said, still kneeling as she patted the animal, which immediately lay down, rolled over and offered his belly for a rub. “What’s his name?”
“Henry. He adopted us a year ago.” The man’s smile reached into an untapped part of her heart, creating a sense of longing so unfamiliar it stole her breath, followed by the sensation that they’d met before. But they hadn’t. She would have remembered a man who looked this good.
Trying to regain her composure, she focused her attention on the little boy. “He’s so cute,” she said, groaning inwardly at her use of such a cliché, but surely she could be forgiven for being so predictable. The man was beyond handsome. Sure, there were lots of movie stars who looked good—thanks to special lighting and camera work—but this man was every woman’s dream personified. He was tall, taller than any of her brothers, and he appeared very at ease with himself. His jet-black hair and sea-green eyes—haunted eyes—completed the package.
Get a grip! He’s got a son. And he’s probably married.
But Marnie couldn’t help marveling at her luck. First, the most beautiful place she’d ever seen was to be her home for the next few days, and now this…
“Can I help you?” the man asked, giving her the full benefit of his sexy smile as he hoisted his son onto his shoulders, much to the delight of the child, who promptly clutched his father’s forehead and grinned down at Marnie.
“I’m expected. I have a reservation.”
His eyes darkened, and the smile faded from his face as he glanced at her car and back at her. “You have a reservation here?”
“Yes.” She held out her brother’s email, with her confirmation number scribbled along the bottom. “I have a reservation for The Mirabel Inn, starting tonight and checking out on the twenty-fourth.”
“Is your…husband, I mean your spouse…partner…here?” Consternation knit his brows together.
Marnie didn’t know how to respond to such an outrageous question. All she wanted was to check in and relax before dinner. “Do you have to have a husband to stay here?” she asked in her you’ve-got-to-be-kidding tone.
Hesitating, he gently tugged on his son’s legs. “No. No, of course not. At least most of the time you don’t. But as of tomorrow night, the inn will be filled with couples. It’s our Christmas Getaway event and it’s meant for couples wanting to enjoy the romantic holiday away from all the stress of Christmas preparations. I’m sure the person doing the reservation would’ve told you that.”
She couldn’t stay here because she was single? Was this covered in the Constitution? It had to be. She had a valid reservation because her brother wouldn’t make that kind of mistake. But why was she wasting time talking to someone who was clearly a lot more handsome than he was gracious?
“Look, I drove all the way up here. I have a reservation and I’m going to check in.” With that, she opened the door and strode into the lobby. Immediately, Henry jumped up and ambled in behind her, his nails clicking on the hardwood flooring.
Under different circumstances she would’ve stopped to admire the fabulous Christmas tree filling the main hall with the scent of balsam and outdoors, but she had to determine if her brother had made a mistake. If there’d been some mistake with the reservation, she’d be forced to return to Boston. If that was the case, surely they could help her find a place to stay somewhere in the vicinity as she was too tired to drive any farther. She walked to the desk off along one wall and rang the antique bell resting on the gleaming mahogany.
A woman appeared, dressed in a classy black dress, a smile warming her angular features. “How may I help you?” she asked.
“I’m here to check in. My name is Marnie McLaughlan, and I have a reservation.”
A frown knitted the woman’s perfectly tweezed eyebrows as she scanned a printout. “Could you wait just a minute?” she asked before disappearing into an office down the hall.
The man she’d met outside came in with his son, his expression neutral as he edged past her and went into the same office. Henry promptly settled in behind the reception desk, his chocolate-brown eyes pensive.
Was everyone in this place either frowning or looking far too serious for such a lovely day? What was the problem with them? She was here, and all she wanted was a pleasant room with a soft bed and a deep tub.
She’d gone over the questionnaires before she left Boston, and there was a section covering the reception desk. She’d be sure to give them a failing grade on how they received guests. Only the little boy and the dog had shown her any true courteousness so far.
She resisted the urge to tap her foot as she gazed up at the vaulted ceiling with its dark wood and hanging brass light fixtures. No wonder Advantage Corporation wanted this place checked out. No hotel employee should be this unpleasant with a paying guest, regardless of what plans had been made for activities at the inn.
She was left to twiddle her thumbs for a few minutes longer, and then the man reappeared without the child, the woman trailing behind him. His smile was back on his face.
“I’m Luke Harrison, manager of The Mirabel Inn.” He held out his hand, a welcoming smile on his face.
Now, that’s more like it.
The warmth and the firmness of his touch drew her in despite his recent behavior. So this was the manager of The Mirabel Inn. His penetrating gaze could prove dangerous should he have reason to believe that she was anything other than a paying guest. The last thing she needed was for him to suspect that she was doing a private assessment of his operations. It would probably be a good idea not to press him over his preoccupation about her traveling alone. The less involvement she had with the man over the next few days, the better.
“It seems we’ve made a mistake. You’re right, you do have a reservation, but I’m afraid the only room available is on the third floor. Unfortunately, it’s very small and the bathroom doesn’t have a Jacuzzi tub. It is not up to the standards of the other rooms here and is seldom used.”
“Does it have internet access?” she asked.
“It does, but only because it’s about to be converted to an office.”
“Well, as long as it has a bathroom—”
“We’re sorry about this situation. We don’t normally rent that room. If you’d like, we can call another inn just a couple of miles down the road. The Chancellor is very intimate and offers the best of everything, including a four-star dining room. They have a vacancy, and we’d be more than happy to compensate you for our mistake.”
Obviously she preferred a full-size room to what sounded like a broom closet with a bathroom. But she didn’t have a choice. She had to stay at The Mirabel Inn. Still, she could indulge her curiosity. “Does the Chancellor have a spa?”
“No, it doesn’t. Was our spa part of your reason for choosing The Mirabel Inn?” he asked, pleasure lighting his handsome features.
He was clearly proud of his spa. “Yes, it was.”
“That’s really too bad. But this is a very popular season of the year, and we’d like you to have the best experience possible during your stay at our inn. We could, of course, offer you a certificate toward booking another time. We would be pleased to provide the Ambassador Suite, should you decide you prefer the accommodations of the Chancellor Inn for this visit, and then return for another visit here.” His eyebrows lifted, his parted lips showing off his perfectly straight teeth.
She wished she could agree to his offer—the chance to see him a second time adding to the appeal—but there was her brother to consider. “No, I prefer to stay here. I’ve read so much about your inn.”
He nodded slowly. “Then welcome to The Mirabel Inn. I do hope you have a pleasant experience here with us,” he said, giving her a forced smile before turning on his heel and marching out of the lobby. Henry issued a mammoth dog sigh as he followed the man down the hallway.
The woman in the black dress stepped forward. “I’m sorry about this. You are travelling alone, correct?”
Marnie stared at the woman in disbelief as she yanked her cell phone out of her purse. The minute she got to her room she would get Scott on the line and have him deal with these people. With the way they were acting toward her, she’d happily get back in the car, find a gas station and get out of here. “What is the big deal?” she muttered.
The woman started to say something, then thought better of it.
Marnie leaned closer to read the woman’s name badge. “Amanda Buckland, is that correct?”
“Yes…”
“Mr. Harrison didn’t seem very pleased when I refused his offer to switch inns.”
The woman passed Marnie a form for her signature. “Mr. Harrison is anxious that each guest have the best possible experience while staying at The Mirabel. He’s simply concerned for you. Starting tomorrow, the only guests here will be couples.”
An inn full of romantic couples—just her rotten luck. But there was the spa, and hiking and good food, and a timeout for her. “Not to worry. I understand. I’ll be as quiet and discreet as possible. I won’t interfere with your special Christmas event.”
“We have a large clientele who come here for pampering and socializing with other guests. Our manager simply wants each guest to enjoy his or her experience with us.” Amanda pursed her flawlessly painted lips.
“I understand.” In truth, as gorgeous as Mr. Harrison might be, what the manager of this inn wanted came in last on her list of priorities.
“Mr. Harrison is a lovely man and a great manager. Everyone here at The Mirabel likes him, and of course Ethan is such an adorable little boy. We’re like a family.”
The whole family thing didn’t live up to its billing as far as she was concerned. Yet, she had a job to do and she would do it.
Amanda passed her an antique key embossed with a coat of arms. “I hope you have a wonderful stay with us, and if there’s anything any member of the staff can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll show you to your room.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll get my suitcase and go up by myself. Room number 311, right?”
“Yes. If you’d like someone to park your car for you…”
“That would be nice.” Oh, she could get used to this sort of luxury very quickly. She imagined the spa and what treats awaited her there. She intended to indulge in all of them.
Amanda pulled the long velvet pull cord hanging at the back of the desk area and a bell tolled somewhere deep inside the building. “Again, please enjoy your stay, and let one of the staff know if you need anything.”
Marnie got her bag from her car, gave her keys to a young man who was waiting outside for her and then headed up the stairs to the third floor. The wide-angled staircase, carpeted in heavy paisley-patterned carpet, led to a much narrower stairway leading to the third floor. Reaching the top of the stairs, she faced a narrow corridor with a tall window at the far end. Her key clutched in her hand, she huffed along down the hall, dragging her suitcase until she found her room. Unlocking the door, she discovered a narrow room made even narrower by the slope of the roof.
Although the room was small, it was a decorator’s dream. The double bed, bracketed by two brass lamps, was covered with a heavy brocade bedspread in shades of cream and gold. The walls were covered in antique fleur-de-lis wallpaper, and the carpet beneath her feet was a rich shade of blue, and so thick she nearly stumbled on it.
She put her suitcase down on the luggage rack at the foot of the bed, catching a glimpse of the tiny bathroom as she did so. But neither the size of the room nor the bathroom mattered as she kicked off her boots, pulled back the bedspread and sank onto the mattress, her head coming to rest on a pillow that felt like a cloud. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered that one of the questionnaire sections related to the comfort of the bed, and she’d be sure to give the inn a perfect rating on that feature.
But it had been a long drive and she needed a short nap before dinner....
* * *
LUKE SAT AT his desk, staring at Marnie McLaughlan’s reservation. It was made out to a Mr. and Mrs. Scott McLaughlan, and yet she’d shown up here alone…and no wedding ring. Where was Mr. McLaughlan? Amanda said he’d been very friendly and so disappointed when she didn’t have a vacancy that she’d felt sorry for him, and offered him the room on the top floor. But why hadn’t he arrived with her if he was so anxious to come here? His wife hadn’t made any mention of him or when he’d be joining her.
It didn’t make sense. He tapped the desk, his mind running over the possibilities.
His concerns aside, he’d been surprised to find Ethan hanging off the woman’s leg when he got to the front of the house, but she seemed to take it in stride. What could have been an embarrassing situation had turned into a pleasant interlude with a beautiful woman. And with her heart-shaped face framed by short, dark curls and her well-toned body, Marnie McLaughlan was gorgeous and sexy....
Her husband probably planned to arrive later, a simple enough explanation, and he hadn’t offered her much opportunity to explain why they hadn’t arrived together. He’d simply find a diplomatic way to learn when her husband was going to join her, because otherwise, a woman alone meant problems from seating arrangements in the dining room to any activities planned for the next few days. Married couples, especially the wives, came to this event because they wanted to escape and spend time with their husbands. It was essential that there be no disruptions this year—and a woman as beautiful as Marnie McLaughlan could prove to be a serious disruption.
He was still distracted by the problem of Marnie when Jack Fowler, the bartender, appeared at the door. “You look awful, my friend. What’s up?”
“We’ve got a single female guest for the next three days, unless her husband decides to join her.” He picked up the reservation, and noted down Scott McLaughlan’s number. “And we have thirty couples who’ve registered for the Christmas Getaway event, most of them arriving tomorrow. I wanted this thing to go off without a hitch. I’d like to really promote it next year and maybe build a little momentum around our programming for the winter months. The last thing I need is a beautiful woman making the wives feel on edge or jealous.”
“I hope she’s not one of those women who likes to hang out at the bar. The last one of those just left yesterday and I’m exhausted,” Jack grumbled.
Luke knew what he meant. Although the bar was popular with the guests because of Jack’s charm, in addition to the quality and variety of the liquor offerings, no one appreciated a guest wanting to spend the night getting drunk. In Jack’s case, he had another reason for wanting to see his guests leave the bar at a reasonable hour. His wife, Lindsay, was expecting their first child and was anxious about the delivery, especially with respect to getting to the hospital on time. Jack didn’t like leaving her alone and had worked mostly day shifts until this week.
“I don’t know anything about her except that the reservation was for two, and here she is, all checked in and ready to enjoy her stay…alone. Her husband insisted that the small room was fine for them. I can’t shake the feeling that something else is going on here.” Restless, he picked up a steel pen, one his parents had given him years ago.
“I assume she’s beautiful.”
“That, too.”
“I take it you tried to convince her to reconsider?”
“I suggested the Chancellor but she refused. It seems she’s very interested in our spa.”
“Well, then I wouldn’t worry. Her husband will probably show up,” Jack said, rubbing his hands through his short-cropped brown hair. “Maybe she and her husband had a fight, and she decided to come on her own, hoping he’d follow her and they could have great makeup sex.”
Luke groaned. “I don’t need that—her deciding to cry on one of the other husbands’ shoulders when hers doesn’t show, and we end up with an argument, or worse still, the couple leaves. Not the image I want to portray.”
“You know there is something you could do if you’re worried about the other guests.”
“What’s that?”
“Until the other guests arrive, I don’t see a problem. But if her husband isn’t here by tomorrow night for the dinner that launches the Christmas Getaway event, you could invite her to be your guest. That way you’ll be able to keep an eye on her.”
“And if she doesn’t want to be my guest?”
Jack shrugged. “She won’t object. Half the women I serve at the bar ask me about you. Married or not. They’re all interested.”
He hadn’t dated anyone since Anna died. There was simply too much to deal with between raising Ethan and running the inn. And if he were to be perfectly honest, a new relationship with a woman would mean he’d have to face his feelings around Anna’s death, feelings of anger over her unwillingness to listen to his warning about the road conditions, all the emptiness of having been left alone.
Yet, meeting Marnie had sparked something. He was attracted to her, and he didn’t want to be. First, she was married, and second, he didn’t want to care for someone when caring could lead to so much hurt. “That might work for tomorrow,” he conceded.
“Her husband will probably arrive tomorrow, anyway.”
“Then why didn’t she say so?”
Jack shook his head. “Did you ask?”
“No.” He sighed. “I should have.”
“My advice? Leave it for tonight, and deal with it tomorrow.”
* * *
MARNIE WOKE WITH A START—nothing seemed familiar, and the only sound was someone outside the door talking about a room number. Then she remembered where she was. How long had she slept? She checked her watch. Six o’clock! She’d planned to go for a hike, but now all she’d have time for was a walk around the grounds. She jumped up, hitting her head on the sloped ceiling. “Ow!” she muttered, rubbing the spot just above her hairline.
“That’s what you get for agreeing to stay in this room,” she said to the empty space as she bent over, searching for her hiking boots. Pulling them on, she noted how dark it was outside, only the sliver of moon peeking through the blind. She hurried downstairs and out the front door. Taking a quick look around, she spotted a stone path leading to the side of the inn. She took it, past a cluster of spreading juniper toward the back. The path led to a stone patio where someone had removed all the snow.
Near the edge on the other side of the patio, Ethan was on his hands and knees digging in the soft loam of a flowerbed, while making loud dump-truck sounds. Squinting around the poorly lit patio space she realized the little boy was out here alone. Except for Henry, who had settled in near the patio door, his chin on his paws, one ear flopped rakishly over one eye. He observed her carefully, his ears doing a flip-flop before settling back.
She went over and knelt down beside the boy. “Ethan, what are you doing?”
“I drive the truck,” he announced proudly, his blue eyes taking her in, a smile dawning on his face. “I need help. You push,” he ordered, getting behind the toy dump truck loaded with dirt and giving it a shove.
She laughed. “You want me to drive your dump truck?”
He nodded, then stepped back and nodded his head again.
“Okay, here goes,” she said, pushing the truck along the edge of the flowerbed toward a spot where he’d clearly dumped other loads.
He toddled along beside her, and when she stopped he pulled the lever that raised the box on the dump truck, spilling his load onto the ground.
He promptly got behind the truck and with a cacophony of enginelike noises he drove the truck back to the spot where she’d found him. She hugged herself against the chill of the night air. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked, noting his fleece jacket partially zippered.
“No!” he howled, looking up at her and scrunching his tiny face. “I’m not cold.”