Unwrapping Holly

Part of her clamored with the warning to stop the talking, to avoid getting personal, but she found herself answering anyway. “As I mentioned, I grew up here, yes. Went to school with Sheriff Jack. His dad pulled me out of more than a ditch or two in his day as sheriff.” She shook her head. “That was when I first had my driver’s license and it was not pretty. I wasn’t so good at navigating in the snow.”

Amusement flickered across his face. “And now? Are you good in the snow now?”

“Judging from the slipping and sliding I was doing coming over here, no,” she said, and laughed, amused at herself. “I’m out of practice, for sure. Other than a short visit here or there, I’ve been gone ten years. Around my area of the country, these past ten years, snow is a fable.”

“Where would that be?”

“Houston, Texas. Law school and then a law firm.”

He picked up the book. “And then writer?”

“Yes. And finally doing it full-time, which has me nervous as heck. I can’t seem to put words on the page. That’s why I came home. I thought a change of scenery might help me through the terror of failure.”

Glancing at the book and then at her, he said, “I think the part here that says ‘USA Today bestselling author’ guarantees you’ve succeeded.”

“One time on a list does not make a career,” she said drily, and shifted the conversation away from anything that reminded her of the deadline fast approaching. “What about you? I know you weren’t here before that because I’ve never heard of the Wiley brothers. And clearly everyone else has. How’d you end up here?”

“I came to town about two years after you left from the sounds of it.” He slid back into the seat and stretched one long leg parallel to the table, his back against the wall, one arm lazily draped on the seat. Casual, easygoing. “My mom and dad—both gone now—retired from corporate living in upstate New York. Dad and I had always talked about opening a business together, and it seemed the right time. I was twenty-five, four years out of college, working for a big-city contractor. There wasn’t a local operation in Haven, so it seemed a perfect fit. And where we went, my brothers tended to follow.”

She curled her jean-clad legs onto the seat and angled herself toward him. “I have two sisters and a younger brother who I adore, but I don’t think I could work with any of them.” She lifted her cup and mock-toasted him. “You’re a better man than I.” She sighed and set her cup back down. “Though I’m looking forward to seeing them when they get here. I just have to get my work done first.” She glanced at her watch. “They’re closing here soon.” Holly sighed. “And my parents’ place is proving a distraction that’s not working.” She laughed, feeling a bit awkward about what that distraction truly was. “I guess this town will never be big enough for a Starbucks. I would’ve torn through some pages with a good White Mocha in hand.”

“I have a nice, quiet den with a fireplace,” he said. “Come home with me, Holly.” A smile touched his lips. “Use me for my work space.”

She laughed despite the nerves fluttering in her stomach. She shut her computer. “No. That’s not a good idea.” It was time to go far, far away from Cole Wiley. Before she did something she would regret later. It was too late for fantasy. She couldn’t be the wild fantasy girl, free of inhibitions when she was Big Sis Holly Redding, home for the holidays.

He sat up, fixed all his attention on her so she felt couldn’t breathe. “No,” she said, answering before he could ask again. “You’ll distract me.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“It won’t work.”

He laughed. “Good. I don’t want it to. But the truth is, I have piles of paperwork waiting for me, with deadlines of my own. I’d still be working, but I was seeing double and had to take a break.” He arched a brow at her. “So you see? We both have to work. We’ll hole up by the fire and motivate each other to get our work done.”

She laughed, and slid her computer into her briefcase. “You think we’ll motivate each other to work.” It wasn’t a question. Nothing about being with this man was going to motivate her to work. More like, motivate her to get naked and scream an “Oh God! ” two or three or ten times.

Mischief and mayhem lurked in the depths of those brown eyes as he said, “I’m a firm believer in reward programs.”

Heat spiraled in her core. “Rewards,” she repeated, her tongue thick with the word.

“Rewards,” he assured her. “Would you like me to offer a few examples? Say, you complete five pages, so I—”