In her mind, Holly was Tabitha; their personalities were alike. She smiled. Cole was her renegade, a man who didn’t fit the conventions of the world she’d built for herself. Interesting . . .
Seeing Cole again would be research. Work. A good way to feed her creative juices. She bit her bottom lip. Did she dare do this? Did she dare see Cole again? There would be nothing to pull her away from him this time, no family commitment. No job to get to the next morning. Nothing to keep her from finding out if he was really as good as her midnight fantasies conjured him to be. And that’s what this had to be about—work mixed with a one-night fantasy—something she didn’t indulge in.
And why not? Why didn’t she ever indulge in fun fantasies? She wasn’t an attorney working around the clock to become a partner, worried about fitting into their perfect mold. She didn’t even want to fit into the mold she’d formed for herself way back when.
Holly made her decision. Cole was exciting, and both her book and her body were in desperate need of some excitement. She grimaced. Of course, there was a strong possibility that Cole wouldn’t live up to her dreams. Her track record of failed relationships was pretty darned rock solid. But even the slight chance that Cole would be different . . . well, that chance had her reaching for the ruby.
Holly held the ruby in her palm and made a wish. Please let this be a smart choice. Okay. Boring wish. Not a fantasy worth wishing. She refocused. Please let Cole be as sinfully good in bed as my fantasies— please let him be that good. Laughter bubbled from Holly’s lips. Right. Like the ruby could decide his prowess. No. The pleasure would have to be all about the man. And Holly was going to enjoy demanding full disclosure.
***
COLE LOUNGED AT THE BAR of The Tavern, wearing a facade of languid disinterest, a cup of black coffee in front of him, no interest in alcohol tonight. He’d much rather get drunk on Holly. If Holly showed.
Lord only knew he’d spent the better part of the day trying to convince himself not to come tonight—Holly was a distraction he couldn’t afford right now, not with one business being sold and a bed-and-breakfast business to launch. But she was in his blood, and on his mind. There was no shutting off the fierceness of his reaction to meeting her.
Clearly, he’d ignored his physical needs for far too long—it was the only explanation for the wicked distraction she’d created in him. Not a difficult task, considering he’d long been without a woman—by choice, not necessity.
The female population of Haven outnumbered the males two to one. The single females three to one. In other words, the women were on the hunt, willing to surrender to a man’s every desire in order to garner a ring on their finger. To a visiting male, that sounded like fucking heaven. To Cole, it was the one little piece of hell in the town he loved. He and his brothers were on every single woman’s “to do” and “shackle at the altar” lists. Thanks, but no thanks.
He’d never felt inclined to marriage. Nothing against it. His parents had been damned happy, and he’d grown up better for it. But it just wasn’t his thing. Never met a woman he could wake up with more than a few times without feeling suffocated. At thirty-four, he didn’t see that changing.
But with the sale of the family business to a larger Manchester operation—his brothers were closing the last local jobs—his work demands had leaned toward bookkeeping and transition issues, and lots of them. All he could manage was a trip to work or to his own bed, alone. Luckily, they’d snagged a large enough sum for the contracting business to allow Cole and his brothers to redirect their efforts to their new endeavor, the remodeling of a large, local home into a bed-and-breakfast. The three of them could focus on one project, instead of chasing their tails between Haven and Manchester to pay the bills. Now that was going to be heaven.
The bartender motioned to Cole’s mug, asking if he needed a refill. Cole waved him away. He didn’t want coffee. He wanted a long, deep drink of Holly. Sexy, funny, prim little Holly. He was going to enjoy the challenge of sliding past the reserve he’d sensed in her.
Cole began conjuring a wicked fantasy about just that when his brother Jacob, the baby of the bunch at twenty-five, and almost ten years Cole’s junior, appeared by his side.
“Did hell freeze over or what?” Jacob asked, surprise in his voice, a pool cue in hand.
Damn. The last thing Cole needed was Jacob panting over his shoulder when Holly arrived. “Speaking of hell,” Cole commented. “What the hell are you talking about?”